The Inevitable Slide Toward Entropy
by SETI-fan
Summary: Erin knew Holtzmann kept a lot of personal things about herself secret, but she'd somehow never expected anything like this.
1. Chapter 1

**Yeahhhh, so this is gonna be a rough one. The one deleted scene/line I hadn't seen anyone take on in a fic (probably with good reason), was Kate's line after saying how Holtz's IQ was off the charts, "It's okay, I have a terminal illness." Between that and thinking about the retirees in Japan who volunteered to take younger people's places cleaning up the nuclear contamination at Fukushima because they wouldn't live long enough to develop the cancer from it, this story came into my mind.**

 **I've done some research and based a lot of it on situations with my older relatives, but if there's anything I've written that's inaccurate or insensitive to those dealing with conditions like this, I apologize in advance. Let me know and I'll adjust and improve it. I made up a syndrome so I had freedom from being tied to perfect accuracy, but I still want to respect the real conditions it's inspired by.**

 **This is one of the sadder stories I've written, but I never like to leave my characters with nothing but pain and tragedy, so there is a happy ending for this. It just takes a long, rough way to get there.**

* * *

A common trend Erin had noted about the hauntings they studied and documented was that ghost occurrences frequently correlated with the revelation of hidden secrets. Perhaps they were the other woman, murdered to keep an affair from coming to light, now returned to seek acknowledgment. Maybe they had a story left untold before they died and now were trapped without closure, unable to communicate with the living.

And sometimes, Erin mused, ducking a tray of surgical tools, ghosts were just big stupid jerks.

This particular one was haunting a still active hospital. As if the poor patients didn't have enough woes under normal circumstances, now they had a mischievous and destructive Class 3 who thought it was hilarious to interfere with operations and scare the pediatric ward.

"I'm just saying, instead of chasing this guy all over the place, let me give him one pass through the ghostchipper and we can go home," Patty ranted, as the ghost phased through another wall, evading capture.

"I really don't think the staff will be thrilled if we spray ectoplasm over every surface in a hospital. We're already probably ruining some sterile areas as it is."

"Honestly, with what already lives on hospital surfaces, ectoplasm would probably be an improvement," Holtzmann commented, walking backward at the rear of the group to keep the ghost from sneaking up on them. "Hey, when we're done, you think I could get some MRSA to take home for experiments?"

"Somehow I don't think you even have to ask," Abby grimaced, eyeing a discolored stain on the hallway floor tiles.

There was a shriek and suddenly the elevator doors ahead of them opened, a flurry of stuffed animals from the gift shop flying out at them like a fuzzy swarm of locusts. Batting their way through the distraction, Abby and Patty managed to get their proton streams around the ghost as it flew out of the elevator. They held it momentarily, but before Erin and Holtzmann could get an angle to join in, the ghost had wriggled out of their streams, laughing as it slipped away down a side corridor.

Abby growled frustratedly. "It's not helping that lightning storm outside's giving him tons of extra ionization to play with."

"These skinny hallways aren't making it easy to get room for all of us to shoot at him either," Patty grumbled.

"We need to regroup," Erin agreed. "Split up and surround him somehow. But the way he's drawing power from that storm I'm not sure our trap's going to have enough force to hold him."

Holtz snapped her fingers and Erin noticed she was staring at something down the hall. "I've got an idea. I'm gonna get set up in the room at the end of the hall around that corner. Give me about ten, fifteen minutes, then lure the ghost down there. And whatever you do, don't come in the room yourselves."

"Okay," Patty said dubiously.

Holtz grinned, winking as she jogged down the hallway. "Don't worry. This is gonna be awesome."

Erin wanted to ask for any further clues what the plan was, then saw the sign pointing the direction Holtzmann had just gone.

RADIOLOGY

"Oh, you know this ain't gonna be good," Patty groaned, following Erin's gaze.

"It's freaking brilliant!" Abby laughed, grinning almost as wildly as the engineer. "All right, you heard her. Let's go taunt a ghost."

Keeping the ghost distracted long enough wasn't a problem at all. Getting him to go where they wanted? That took a lot more effort and craftiness. Fortunately, it wanted an audience and the team had developed enough strategies by now to attract ghosts' attention that they were able to gradually steer it back down toward the Radiology department.

Holtzmann had apparently convinced the few techs on shift to take their breaks and so the area was deserted as they drove the ghost past empty exam rooms and shielded doors. Finally, Erin spotted the door Holtzmann had indicated, one of the X-ray rooms. With thick, lined walls and no windows, it was sufficiently insulated from the storm it would slow down the ghost's ability to draw on the free energy.

The ghost seemed to be realizing this too and starting to get aggressive as it felt cornered.

"Oh no, you don't," Patty said, wrapping her proton stream around it as it tried to make a lunge at them.

Erin and Abby joined in, the combined force of three proton streams, plus the lead in the walls giving them enough of an edge to limit his movement, even if it was a struggle to keep him contained.

"Nicely done, ladies," Holtzmann's voice drifted from the room. Erin looked in to see her standing with the trap hotwired into a partially-dissected X-ray machine. "If you can keep him there, that'd be great. And if you can maintain about a thirty foot radius of what's about to happen, that'd be even greater."

"Are we outside thirty feet?" Patty asked nervously. "How'm I supposed to eyeball thirty feet?"

"Ready?" Holtz called.

"Guess we'll find out," Abby said.

"Set…"

"Jesus," Patty muttered.

"Let him go!" Holtz yelled.

All three disabled their proton streams as Holtz stomped the trap activator. The X-ray machine beside her released an almost audible pulse of radiation and the hollow laser beam that erupted from the trap was bigger than Erin had ever seen it.

The ghost didn't stand a chance. Hyperionized or not, he was sucked into the vortex, wailing all the way. Holtz slammed the trap shut again, the devices in the room whirring to a halt as the power drained and smoke drifted up from the trap.

"Whoo!" she whooped, fists raised in victory.

"Nice one!" Abby cheered, high-fiving Erin and Patty as they slumped in exhaustion. She started toward Holtz too, but was waved back as Holtz disconnected the trap and carried it out of the room.

"I wouldn't go in there. They're gonna have to let that place air out for a bit, maybe a week or two. Plus I think we owe them a new X-ray machine. But the trap's holding strong!" She high- and low-fived Abby now that she was back in the hallway.

"Are you okay?" Patty asked, frowning. "I mean, you were in there when that thing went off."

"I am giddy with pride and success, so I am more than okay," Holtz grinned, decisively shoving the trap back into its ruts at the bottom of her proton pack.

"Seriously, Holtz, that looked like a pretty big radiation exposure," Erin insisted with a frown. "I think you should get checked out before we leave, just to make sure."

"Honestly, it was just a few hundred millisieverts, no big deal." She shrugged cheerfully. "The effects won't kick in for another thirty years. I'll be long gone by then."

"That's a grim and morbid way of thinking," Patty grimaced.

"We fight ghosts with nuclear lasers. I'm not exactly counting on getting to cash in that government 401K one day," Holtzmann said, as casually as if she was discussing plans for the weekend.

"Not me," Patty snorted. "I'm taking those pension checks and retiring to a beach somewhere where they ain't heard of snow."

Holtz arched an eyebrow as they started walking back toward the busier parts of the hospital. "Really? You're telling me you don't want to go out in a fiery maelstrom of glory?"

"Call me crazy like that," Patty deadpanned.

Holtzmann turned the Abby. "Abbs? Death by spectral warfare?"

"That's enticing, it really is, but I've gotta admit I'm kind of looking forward to all of us hanging out when we're old and gray."

Erin chuckled. "Can you imagine? It'll be like Golden Girls, but with ghosts and proton weapons."

"Eating cheesecake, arguing over who put Erin's dentures in ectoplasm…" Abby grinned.

"Hey!" Erin protested.

"I call being Blanche," Patty said. "No offense to Bea or Bette, but I wanna still be getting play when I'm old."

"Yeah, that's fair," Abby nodded. "Hey, remember that one episode where…"

Erin smiled at Holtzmann, who had settled into the back of the group, and nudged her with her shoulder. "Sorry, guess we'll have to ask you to put off the blaze of glory and stick around a few decades longer."

Holtz grunted an acknowledgment and Erin noticed her celebratory mood had entirely disappeared. She didn't join the debate over who would be which of the other Golden Girls, just trailed behind them quietly as they walked back out into the lobby and found an elevator, seeming preoccupied with something.

But Erin had learned they wouldn't get her to open up in a public area anyway, so she just accepted Holtzmann's subdued energy as they wrapped things up with hospital security and made the uneventful drive back to the firehouse, lightning still flashing off the windowed buildings around them.

OOO

They mostly went their own ways when they got back, Holtzmann taking the trap to containment, then excusing herself to her lab to work on something. The others settled back into their own projects that had been interrupted by the bust. The weather seemed to keep other customers from calling, so they were mostly able to work uninterrupted. After a couple of hours Erin had mostly forgotten Holtz's odd mood as life settled into the routine of the firehouse.

When they took a break for dinner, Holtzmann declined to join them, but that wasn't unusual when she was immersed in a project. Patty just took her up a Hot Pocket and a fruit cup, insisting she eat both before she raided the kitchen for another snack. And drink at least one bottle of something that didn't contain caffeine.

Late that evening, after the storm had ended and the sun had set unseen behind the clouds, Abby and Erin were sitting together at a desk, discussing the field dynamics of spectral particles between Class 3 and Class 4 entities to figure out whether the fact that the ghost knew who it was had a quantifiable impact on its interactions with the physical world. They were so deep in their analysis Erin didn't even notice when Holtzmann came down the stairs until a manila folder was dropped on the desk in their eyelines.

Both physicists looked up curiously. "Hey, Holtz. What's this?" Abby asked.

Holtzmann had paced a short distance away, chewing at her thumbnail a bit and avoiding their eyes. "Read it and I'll explain."

"Oh god, what is it now? She think of a way to work X-ray machines into the packs?" Patty asked, putting aside the book she was reading and standing up from her couch to come join them at the desk.

Erin watched Holtzmann a moment longer, her closed body language raising concerned alarms in Erin's head, then leaned next to Abby, who had opened the folder.

Instead of calculations or schematics, it contained a file with Holtzmann's name on it. A medical file, Erin realized, reading on. She didn't understand most of what she read within. She saw mention of a syndrome whose name she didn't recognize. She could understand the root words and prefixes of a lot of the terms, but not what they meant in conjunction except that they didn't sound like anything good when combined. And she especially didn't like the idea of any of them being connected to Holtzmann.

"Holtz," Abby said quietly, "what—?"

"It's a genetic disorder," Holtzmann said, voice even, but flat, looking at the ground in front of her rather than her friends, who were now staring at her. "Rare, barely even named by the time they ID'd it in my DNA. Happens in less than one in five hundred million people. Always had a knack for defying the odds," she added in a mirthless attempt at a joke.

A cold pall sank over the room. Erin's stomach suddenly felt like ice.

"Did you just get diagnosed?" Abby managed.

"Nah." Holtzmann shook her head. "Found out in undergrad. Wanted to earn a little extra cash, so I signed up to be in some grad students' genomics study. They found the genetic marker and referred me to a specialist. On the plus side, I wound up being a very interesting data point in a major genetics paper."

"Wait, so what does this mean?" Patty asked, though her expression suggested she didn't really want to know the answer.

Holtzmann licked her lips, still not meeting their eyes. "It's a mutation that affects the neuromuscular system. Little genetic typo, but in juuust the wrong place. Stays dormant most of your life, then effects kick in around middle age."

"Effects?" Abby asked weakly.

Holtz scratched at the back of her head. "Things start breaking down: motor control, neural function, the associated organ failures…"

Patty muttered a curse.

Erin felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs. "How fast?" she rasped.

Now Holtz's eyes turned to the ceiling. She inhaled as she thought. "Making it to your fifties is doable. Past sixty's unheard of."

 _Oh god._ Erin's eyes closed as she let her head hang, taking deep breaths against the sudden light-headedness that filled her.

She heard a sniffling sound beside her and looked over, realizing Abby was crying.

Holtzmann hunched, looking pained and guilty. "This is why I didn't tell you guys."

"Yeah, it's kind of upsetting to find out your best friend has a terminal illness," Abby said, voice tight as she wiped at her tears.

"I've still got, like, fifteen good years left," Holtz said, as if trying to cheer them up. "I don't want to spend them thinking about when it won't be so good. I just…thought you probably should know. You know, before it happens."

When nobody was comforted or could muster up much response, she continued, as if desperate to break the grieving atmosphere. "I've had it the whole time you've known me. Nothing's wrong yet. I'm the same Holtzy I was yesterday."

 _Except yesterday we didn't know you had a genetic time bomb ticking away waiting to kill you_ , Erin thought miserably.

"Baby, if you've known all along, what made you pick tonight to tell us?" Patty asked, then rolled her eyes, answering her own question. "Oh damn, all the retirement talk today."

"Yeahhhh…" Holtz shrank further, apologetically. "You guys had all those ideas about growing old together. I just thought…you should know before you, you know, got your heart set on it."

Abby took a shaky breath, getting up. Holtzmann actually cringed as she approached, as if unsure what Abby was going to do. Erin realized with even more sadness that Holtz was afraid about how they were taking the news, not just because she hated dealing with emotions, but because she thought the small family she had found might reject her now that they knew about her situation.

Instead, Abby reached out and pulled Holtzmann into her arms, hugging her tight. "Doesn't change anything. We've proven ghosts exist and stopped an apocalypse from happening. What's a little piece of DNA code against us, huh?"

Holtzmann awkwardly hugged her back, not quite relaxed yet. "And even if we can't stop it?"

"Then we have the best damn lives we can for whatever time we have," Abby said firmly, shifting back to arm's length so she could look at Holtz. "I mean, with our job, there's no guarantee _any_ of us will make it to old age. We could all die in a bust tomorrow for all we know."

"Yeah, you're right," Holtzmann grinned slightly.

Patty stared at them. "Y'all should not be so happy about that thought. But Holtzy, seriously, you know whatever happens we're gonna be there for you, right?"

Holtz ducked her head, rubbing behind her ear uncomfortably. "Thanks, Pats."

As Abby squeezed her shoulders again, agreeing, a dark thought went through Erin's head. "Holtz, you said you found out when you were an undergrad."

"Yeah," Holtzmann confirmed. "It's part of why I decided to specialize in nuclear engineering. If somebody's gonna play with the really dangerous toys, might as well be someone with less to lose."

Erin blinked past that saddening thought for the time being and pressed forward. "And you said you never thought you'd have a friend until you met Abby. So, what were you going to do when it did kick in?"

Holtz shifted, looking uncomfortable again. "Well, Dr. Gorin knew, but we figured I'd probably outlive her anyway. But that was one of the other perks of working with radioactivity. Decreased the chances I'd make it to that point. Or maybe I'd counter-mutate it. And if I did get that far… I had plenty of ways to check out early."

Erin swallowed. She had suspected as much, but it was a bit of a kick in the gut to hear it confirmed out loud.

Abby and Patty had gone still. "You mean—?" Abby said.

"Play the nuclear solution," Holtz elaborated casually. "Take a fiery shortcut. Ride the atomic rocket to the afterlife—"

"We get it, we get it," Patty interrupted. She walked over, cupping a hand on the back of Holtzmann's head so she would look Patty in the eye. "But I need you to promise me something. Even if you do start getting to that point, don't take that option without telling us, okay? Promise?"

Holtz patted her arm, nodding firmly. "Don't worry, Pats. It's different now. Got plenty worth sticking around for."

"Damn right," Patty agreed, sounding more relieved.

Holtzmann cleared her throat loudly, indicating she was reaching her limit on emotional outpouring. "So, you guys know now, but I've got ages until it starts doing anything, so if we can just keep doing everything like normal, that'd be great."

"With a bombshell like that, I can't make any promises I'm not gonna cry or be messed up for a while," Abby said, "but I promise I'll try."

"Same, girl," Patty nodded. "It's gonna be a long time before I'm remotely okay about this, but if normal's what you want, we'll do the best we can."

"Okay." Holtz nodded, gently freeing herself from Abby's arm. "Think I'm gonna go back up and work on stuff for a bit."

Erin realized she hadn't said much during the whole conversation, though her mind had been a tempest since she first saw the file. As Holtzmann passed, her hand reached out, catching Holtz's wrist to stop her. But when Holtz paused and looked at her inquiringly, Erin found she couldn't find words enough to convey the multitude of thoughts logjamming in her brain.

Her expression must have said enough, though, because Holtz gave her a little half-smile and shifted to squeeze her hand with a wink. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere yet, Er." Her eyes widened in a slightly troubled expression as she extracted her hand carefully. "Unless I left the heating element on next to the oxyacetylene tanks."

She bounded up the stairs, much closer to her usual self again.

The same couldn't be said for the women left on the ground floor.

Patty drew a deep, shaky breath, running her hands down her face. "Damn."

Abby had a hand on her head, looking like she was trying not to start crying again. "You know, about ninety-five percent of the gray hairs I have I got because of her?" she said, with fake irritation.

"I believe it." Patty pushed away from the desk she was braced against. "Look, I know I ain't getting any more work done tonight, so I'm having a drink. You guys want some?"

"Yeah."

"The stronger stuff's in the cupboard above the fridge," Abby said.

As Patty went to get the alcohol, Erin slumped down at a desk, letting her head sink onto her folded arms. "All the time we've known her, I had no idea. I mean, there's a lot she doesn't talk about, but something this big?"

"I know." Abby rubbed her eyes. "I'm just gonna say this now, if you've got any scary, tragic secrets you've been keeping about your health, maybe just don't tell me, 'cause I think it'd kill me."

The half-hearted joke fell flat between them. They sat in heavy silence for a few more minutes, lost in morose thoughts. Then Abby straightened up, moving to the desk to close the medical file.

"Well, if we've only got fifteen or twenty more years with her, we're gonna make sure they're the best damn years of her life."

As Abby walked off to move to the couch in the lounge, Erin mused that she seconded that plan. If there was nothing else she could do right now, except commiserate with the rest of the team until alcohol numbed the shock of the news, she could at least swear to uphold that goal for however long they were lucky enough to all be together. No more wasting time or taking things for granted. From here on out, every day counted even more than it had before.


	2. Chapter 2

**All right, this is a bit of a fluffy chapter before we start getting into the heavier stuff. Feelings are a bit more complicated to navigate with a bombshell like this in the middle of it.**

* * *

It took a while, but life did eventually return to normal. It was strange how quickly such a dramatic revelation could just be incorporated into everyday reality. Since Holtzmann wasn't feeling symptoms yet, nothing about her role in the team was any different than it had been before she revealed her condition. The main differences were in the rest of the team's reactions now that they knew. But there were still ghosts to be busted and inventions to be made and refined and paperwork to be filed to keep them from losing their funding. Life continued on and the knowledge of Holtz's genetic disorder just became a sad glimmer in the back of their minds.

Not to say that they all immediately emotionally accepted it. They tried to respect Holtz's desire not to be treated any differently, but there were still a number of times where one of them would find the other having a quiet cry or when something on a bust or in a movie they watched would remind them and then things got awkward or sad. And at least a few times the weapons tests and training in the alley got a bit unnecessarily vigorous as they found an outlet to vent their frustration at the unfairness of life.

But at the end of the day, there was nothing to do about it now. They maybe did a little research on the side, kept an eye out for any medical breakthroughs that could be relevant, and donated a portion of their funding to genetics and dementia-related studies just in case. At least that way it felt like they were doing something until they could come up with a solution to Holtz's situation.

The distant threat on the horizon didn't stop other developments from carrying on either. There had been a chemistry sparking between Erin and Holtzmann since the early days of their friendship. Erin wasn't so blind as to be unaware of Holtz's efforts (and even if she had been Patty and probably Abby would have very clearly called it out anyway). It was an intimidating thing overall, an idea that Erin wasn't averse to, but it was a big step for her to actually take the step and accept it. She had only ever liked women that way in the hypothetical before. To actually validate Holtzmann's advances and make that potential a reality, forever reclassifying herself and her relationship to Holtzmann in her own mind and the perception of everyone they met, was paradigm-shifting enough to make her consistently hesitate and maintain the status quo.

The revelation of Holtz's diagnosis threw off that equilibrium, though not the way Erin would have anticipated. It changed nothing about her feelings for Holtzmann, of course. It diminished nothing about her in Erin's eyes. But she did see a change in how Holtz acted around her. It felt like the vivacious woman she knew had pulled back a bit. She was still charming in her odd way, yes, and still flirted lightly and easily as it was part of her nature, but she didn't give Erin quite the extra level of charm she once had. She didn't show off quite as pointedly or go out of her way to find excuses to build her latest projects in ways that extended into Erin's personal work space. She wasn't cold or rude or detached in any way, but Erin could tell she was somewhat abruptly making a conscious effort to hold back. And she had a strong suspicion why.

If the knowledge of Holtzmann's condition had had any effect on Erin, it had been a catalytic one. The ticking clock, or calendar she supposed, was a new backdrop in her mind, an underlying reminder that their time together in this world was finite and nothing was guaranteed. So while Erin respected Holtzmann's choice to take a step back, she was not okay with letting it happen passively without at least investigating whether there was something there worth trying for.

Somehow, when faced with impending mortality, the idea of redefining your self-identity seemed a much lower hurdle to cross.

So one day, when the two of them were celebrating a successful demonstration of Holtz's newest proton cannon in the alley, Erin used the exhilaration of the moment and took the leap. "Let's go out for dinner."

"Cool," Holtz agreed, spraying down the flaming remains of their target with an extinguisher. "You get Abby and Patty and we can—"

"No." Erin stepped closer, needing a steadying breath against her trembling nerves, but standing firm. " _Let's_ go out. Like, _out_ out. Together. You know, if you'd like to."

Well, it wasn't her smoothest effort ever, but she had certainly done worse.

Holtz stopped, looking at her. "You're talking about…two-person dinner?"

"Two-person dinner," Erin affirmed, amused to see Holtz slightly flustered.

"Prelude-to-serious-dating dinner."

"That would be the goal, yes," Erin said, straightening her shoulders.

Holtzmann hesitated, looking down briefly as she fidgeted with the nozzle of the extinguisher, her tongue pressing behind her pursed lips. "You know my expiration date's a lot sooner than yours," she said flatly.

"I don't, actually." Erin fell into her professorial rhythm. "I know that's the projection, but like Abby said, it leaves out a lot of variables. Either one of us could die tomorrow, or next week, or in a year. None of us have any guarantees. And however much time we have…I would like a chance to spend it with you."

Her voice quivered by the end of her declaration, but she felt it still came out reasonably well. She just hoped it would be enough to move Holtzmann enough to overcome her newfound insecurity.

Holtz was completely focused on the ground now. Erin couldn't see her eyes around the rims of her glasses, but she could see her jaw working.

"Let me think about it, Er," she said at last, ducking around her and grabbing the prototype cannon as she rushed back into the firehouse.

Erin remained standing where she had been, slightly stunned. Of all the ways she had imagined Holtz reacting to her proposal, that wasn't one of them.

The traitorous voice in the back of her mind hissed, _She doesn't want you. She was trying to show she wasn't interested anymore and you didn't listen. You made a fool of yourself and she hates you now. You ruined everything._

She pushed those thoughts back with the conviction strengthened by the emotional security of the past few years. No. She knew how Holtzmann felt, regardless of what was going on now. And she knew her answer was a genuine request, not a brush-off. For all Holtz would dive headlong into danger, she took serious emotions slowly. And with the extra weight of her eventual disorder on top of it… Yeah, she would likely need some time to process everything.

Erin honored her wishes for the rest of the day, giving Holtz space by not going up to the lab, but also trying to give off a calm and non-demanding air whenever Holtz passed through the ground floor and their eyes would meet briefly. If Abby and Patty noticed what was going on, they didn't comment on it and Erin bided her time as if her stomach wasn't filled with butterflies over the question lying between her and Holtzmann.

Later that night, as Erin was reading through the latest issue of the Journal of Physics, Holtzmann slid into a chair on the other side of her desk, her glasses traded out for her full safety goggles in a rather telling reflection of her mental state. Erin set the journal down, giving Holtz her full attention without pushing, even though her heart hammered with what the next few minutes would decide for their future.

"The reason I didn't tell you guys," Holtz started without preamble, "is because I knew it would hurt you. If I just died in a freak thing, you would be sad, but it would be quick. No build-up, no worrying for years before anything even happens. I didn't want to put you guys through that."

Erin listened, carefully keeping her reactions to herself so she didn't rush Holtzmann and make her recoil into herself.

"That's part of why I was kind of okay with not having friends or family back in the day," Holtz continued, looking at her hands instead of Erin. "Less people to be hurt when I was gone. But meeting Abby and you and Patty…I wanted to be with you guys. And I thought maybe it's okay to be friends and you guys have each other too so when I'm gone you'll be okay…" She swallowed, adjusting her goggles. "But if _we_ actually dated and were in love… Then it'd hurt more and you'd be extra alone. And I can't do that to you."

Erin had figured it was something like that. She nodded, keeping a calm demeanor despite her heart still pounding. "Well, those are very well-thought out reasons. But there are a few things that you can't control. Even if it's just friendship, we're all going to love you, and it's going to hurt like hell when you're gone. You can't ask us not to feel like that." She braced herself to be bold. "And I'm going to have the same feelings for you, just like I think you have for me, even if we agree not to act on them. Of course I'll respect whatever you want to do about that and promise I'd try not to do anything to make you uncomfortable, and if friendship is truly all you want, I'm okay with that. But that's not going to make me care about you any less."

"Erin…" Holtz sighed, brows scrunching together.

"Because the fact is just like Abby said: we don't actually know how long any of us have. But whether it's days or decades, I know one truth with absolute certainty." She knew her voice was quivering now, but pressed on. "Losing you will be so much more painful if I know we wasted all the good times we could've had because we didn't even try."

"You deserve someone who you have a chance to grow old with," Holtz choked out, head hanging over her arms folded on the table.

"We _both_ deserve to be happy," Erin insisted, surprised at her own vehemence. "For however long we have, I'd like for us both to be happy."

When Holtz didn't answer, Erin got worried. She extended a hand across the desk to tip her chin up so she could see her expression. Instead, Holtzmann caught it gently midway through its journey and turned it, bringing it to her lips so she could softly kiss Erin's palm.

Electric butterflies fluttered up her arm, taking half the breath from her lungs. She slid her hand over to cup Holtz's cheek, her thumb automatically wiping the tears she found there that had escaped the edge of the goggles. "Is that a yes?"

There was another second of hesitation, then Holtz nodded against her hand.

Erin couldn't contain herself anymore. The fear and uncertainty and doubt evaporated like the sun had come out after weeks of clouds. She was up and around the table without breaking contact with Holtz, wrapping her in a hug that for the first time meant she was hers.

Holtzmann gave a little sob against her shoulder. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. You just made me so happy right now, Holtz."

She sniffled and pulled back enough to look Erin in the eyes, shoving her goggles up, then cupping Erin's face with her hands, expression serious. "Whatever time I have left, it's yours."

Erin choked out a sob of her own. It may not have been an 'I love you' or a marriage vow, but it meant just as much or more.

"Except when I'm in the little girls' room. That's Holtzy Time."

Erin snorted a laugh through her tears and the wet grossness of it made Holtzmann smile too.

Erin's eyes widened suddenly. "Oh my god, we're dating."

Holtzmann chuckled. "That's kind of the goal, yeah. You okay with…all of that?"

Erin drew her back straighter and nodded, resting her arms loosely on Holtz's shoulders with a smile. "You know, I absolutely am."

"Good, 'cause I will be introducing you to everyone we meet as my girlfriend. Even the people who know us."

"I…am very okay with that too."

And the stress that had pervaded their recent months gave way to an easy sort of joy as they kissed for the first time, an affirmation and celebration of life, and a choice to focus on living instead of dying.

OOO

Of course, in their job, death was never far from any of their minds, as they researched and busted spirits of the angrily departed.

"We never see happy ghosts, you ever notice that?" Patty commented as they loaded the Ecto-1 after one fairly routine bust.

"I don't know, Rowan seemed pretty happy before we gave him a nuclear weenie roast," Holtzmann said, wiping slime off the ghost trap.

"You know what I mean." Patty shot her a glare. "It's always somebody with an axe to grind or some unfinished business. I mean, once in a while you hear about ghosts coming back to see their favorite opera or something, but most of the time it's just some pissed off former people."

"We've speculated that strong emotions like trauma affect PKE and seem to directly influence ghost formation," Erin said as she helped her girlfriend fit the trap back onto the base of her pack. "Abby and I wondered whether positive emotions could do the same thing, but there isn't nearly as much evidence."

"Maybe it's a good sign," Abby shrugged. "Could mean whatever's on the other side is so good most people have no reason to want to come back."

"Or maybe people just don't report it when they've got a nice friendly ghost roommate," Patty countered.

"I'd have a ghost roommate," Holtz said.

"Yeah, of course you would," Patty shook her head.

"I'm serious. Could be fun."

"Please don't open a ghost trap in the apartment," Erin begged.

Holtzmann waved a hand. "Nah, nah. But if somebody friendly showed up, helped with the dishes and stuff, it's not like most of 'em eat much." She frowned thoughtfully. "They probably wouldn't help with the rent, though."

Patty snorted. "Well, it's not like they can exactly have a job if they're a ghost."

"Uh-oh," Abby grinned as Holtz's eyes lit up, glittering with enthusiasm. "You did it now."

"They could be a _ghost_ writer," Holtzmann smirked.

"Aw, hell," Patty grumbled.

"Or deliver mail for the ghost office."

"Hey, you set her up," Abby laughed.

"Or an air ghostess. In a scare-plane!"

"I regret ever starting this conversation."

Erin watched in amusement as Holtzmann kept coming up with ghost puns to torment Patty with on the drive back, but her mind ruminated over the rest of the conversation, one particular thought lingering most resonantly. When they were unloading the car, she caught Holtz's eyes and saw that despite the joking, the thought had struck her too.

When they were in bed that night, Erin decided to broach the question at last. "Would you come back as a ghost?"

"Is that a question or a request?"

"I don't know. None of the ghosts we see are happy. I want to know you'll be happy."

"Well, I'd be happier here with you. Tell you what," Holtz propped herself up on one elbow. "If it's possible, I'll come visit you as often as I can."

"Mm." Erin wrapped an arm tighter around her. "And if it's not, at least we still have Rowan's notes on how to break the barrier again."

Holtzmann leaned back, faux gasping. "Erin Gilbert, you would trigger an apocalypse to see me?"

"Maybe," Erin shrugged, hiding a grin. "If you're good."

"Sweet-talker." Holtz snuggled back into her. "And hey, you could always just do something traumatic to me right before I die."

"Holtz!"

"Not like stab me or anything. Just…smash one of my proton packs or something. A betrayal so I stick around to seek revenge."

"Mm. Well, let's call that Plan Z."

"All right…"


	3. Chapter 3

Life has a forward momentum and even being aware of its inevitable ends doesn't slow it down for long. While they didn't really have a big ceremony, Erin and Holtzmann eventually made their commitment official in the eyes of their friends and the New York government. It didn't change much about their daily lives, as they had already moved in together a couple years before, but it was nice to make the gesture. And although Holtz didn't have any other family who could try to supersede Erin or their friends on issues of inheritance or medical visitation rights, it made both of them feel a little better to have it all on paper.

While they were building their relationship, Patty found a wonderful man who adored her and inherited two stepkids who quickly became beloved parts of the whole Ghostbusters family. Holtzmann immediately claimed the Crazy Aunt title and let the kids get away with everything behind Patty's back.

Abby never opted to marry, more interested in the work than having to balance it with the demands of a relationship, but she never had a shortage of suitors when she wanted some entertainment, especially given their status in both the scientific community and the public eye these days. Erin took great pleasure in watching her hold court at physics conferences, getting to pick and choose who she would give a quote to or accept drinks and a conversation with, after so many years of being the laughingstock of their profession.

Their small operation expanded over the decades, adding satellite branches across the country, then around the world. The firehouse remained the hub and business center for the whole thing, packing more and more lab equipment into any space not being used for offices or meeting with clients. Although they hired and trained up enough new recruits that they didn't have to be on call 24/7, the original team still ran the vast majority of busts together, letting the new teams build their own dynamics and rhythms. Things were busier, but for the most part, the good bits of the job hadn't changed. They built equipment, elucidated new concepts in mankind's understanding of the universe, busted ghosts, hung out, danced, and generally enjoyed their lives and work.

Things were going so smoothly, Erin almost forgot the genetic elephant in the room, but it never completely left her mind. In her spare time, when the others weren't around, she researched everything she could find about Holtzmann's disorder, sparse as it was, as well as advice and support forums for families living with relatives with Huntington's, Alzheimer's, dementia, and every other neurological situation she could think of. She may not be able to stop it, but she could be ready to give Holtz the best support possible when the time came.

All told, they got relatively lucky. Holtzmann was forty-six before the tremors started showing up in her hands, and then only after long work days or hours of precise, strenuous building. She was forty-nine before they got bad enough that she didn't trust herself to work on their equipment anymore. By then, the original team had mostly stepped back to more of a support and research role anyway, but it was a hard moment for Holtz, accepting that she had to give up such a central part of who she was.

In truth, all the girls decided to officially retire at that point. Holtzmann protested that no one else should have to stop because of her, but honestly the rest of them were pretty much all ready to leave the field work to the younger kids. Erin was nearing her sixtieth birthday, Abby had already had hers, and Patty was looking unfairly younger than any of them despite being sixty-five and a grandmother.

They contacted the mayor's office to discuss their decision and were given an appointment for that same week. Mayor Lynch, despite being well into her campaign for senator, still tended to make time to meet with the team directly rather than foisting them off on one of her staff. Though, to be honest, that was more likely out of desire to limit how many people they talked to than in deference to all they did for the city.

Lynch wasn't surprised by their decision to retire in itself, but Erin caught the startled break in her politician's façade when they disclosed Holtzmann's condition to her. She agreed to have an aide start their paperwork for pensions and transfer their organization's leadership to the new senior team of their choice, as well as draft a press release to handle the changeover while encouraging discretion as to the details of their reasoning. She also insisted there would be a retirement ceremony so that the city could express their gratitude, no doubt while also providing her with ample publicity opportunities to add to her campaign's press coverage, but promised the team themselves wouldn't have to do much aside from put in an appearance and enjoy a meal and drinks.

As they were heading out, Lynch called, "Dr. Gilbert, could I have a word? Just with you?"

Erin exchanged a puzzled look with the others, but touched Holtz's shoulder reassuringly and said she would meet them at the car.

Once they had gone, Lynch dismissed her assistants as well and they were left in the awkward tension that always characterized their interactions.

Lynch steepled her hands in front of her with a solemn air. "Holtzmann. This isn't a joke, is it? Because while I wouldn't put it past her—"

"No," Erin said, feeling emotion make her voice rough. "She's not making it up. We can give you the medical reports to prove it—"

"No, that won't be necessary." Lynch exhaled slowly. "I'm genuinely sorry, Erin."

That shook Erin a bit. In all the years they had worked together, Lynch had almost never used their first names. "Thank you."

"I'll let you get back to the others," she said, straightening and reaching for a folder on her desk, "but I'm aware that chronic medical care can be very expensive, especially for rare conditions that may need elaborate experimental treatments. If there's ever a concern about getting something done, let me know. Funding can always be found."

Erin blinked, nearly speechless. "Uh, thank you, Mayor Lynch. Jennifer."

She sputtered some further farewell on her way out. Looking back one last time, she saw Lynch set down the folder, remove her glasses, and run a hand over her face. She stayed like that, staring into space for a moment more, her expression hard to read, before taking a breath, putting her glasses back on, and getting back to work.

As Erin took the elevator down, she pondered the odd relationship that had formed between the team and their reluctant government liaison over the years, and felt a new pang of emotion over the era of their lives that was ending.

OOO

After the hoopla and attention—being careful not to draw public attention to Holtz's situation—had died down, retired life settled into a pretty comfortable routine. Patty focused more of her energy on her writing, adding more books to her already impressive bibliography about the haunted history their work uncovered and enjoying the speaking tours she got invited to do. Sometimes Abby joined her, but she mostly preferred staying involved in the research end of things, keeping a toe in Ghostbusters business even as she embraced her emeritus status. Erin and Holtzmann devoted their time to each other and to researching everything available on gene therapy and biotechnology.

Despite her initial depression when the symptoms kicked in and took away her ability to work on her babies, Holtz's readiness to fight the disorder's onset came back as she and Erin took on the problem as a team.

"No one with this syndrome has lived past sixty," she said, pacing in front of the whiteboard in their living room like a coach before the big game. " _Yet._ So a minimum of sixty-one is the goal."

"Well, many happy years into the future is the goal, but basically, yeah," Erin said, waving a hand.

Holtz strolled back to stand beside Erin, both folding their arms in sync as they stared at the thought-web of medical research on the board that once held quantum physics theory. "So the next step is…"

"Just figuring out how to get there…" Erin finished.

"I was going to say deciding what to order for dinner, but that too."

They attacked the quest for a cure with a motivation Erin hadn't felt since high school. Although this time it was perhaps even stronger because instead of just proving the existence of ghosts (and her sanity), now she was trying to save Holtzmann's life. They chased leads from medical journal to medical journal. They travelled to neurological research facilities around the country and even to a few other countries, consulting with experts. They had a long Skype conversation with a very confused specialist from Ecuador before Patty finally made Erin move over and finished the call in much more fluent Spanish. Erin and Abby even got Holtzmann some simplified lab equipment so she could run a few tests on her own or simply distract herself when the frustration was getting to be too much. They read and watched and compared everything documented on the subject until Erin was dreaming in words like 'prion' and 'glia' and 'myelin'.

And then one day they found out an experimental trial was being started at a university hospital to treat a suite of related conditions including Holtzmann's. They contacted the program in excitement and began filling out an application and patient profile through Holtz's primary specialist, excitement flooding their veins at the new options opening before them.

And it absolutely devastated Erin when Holtzmann got rejected. Apparently the combination of her age, stage of progression, and lifetime exposure to ionizing radiation made her a non-ideal candidate for their research.

Abby and Patty were likewise livid. Abby was ready to go over to the medical center, no matter what state it was in, and demand who they were to think Holtzmann was unqualified for anything. Erin was already pulling up Lynch's number, figuring some senatorial pressure might grease the wheels a bit.

Out of all of them, Holtzmann was the only one not visibly upset. She had watched them rant from her seat on the couch ever since they opened the e-mail, but now spoke up, her calm voice managing to catch Erin's attention through the anger.

"Erin, put the phone down."

"We can do it, Holtz. After everything you've done to save the world, Lynch owes you."

"Er," she soothed, reaching out a hand to entice Erin back over. "You're thinking with love, not science. And while I adore that, I need all sides of your brilliant brain onboard. It's gonna be fine. They don't need my mutant DNA contaminating their data and slowing them down. I mean, they're doing the study whether I'm in it or not, right?"

Erin wanted to protest, glancing toward Abby for support, but knew it was moot."That's true," she admitted reluctantly, letting her righteous anger fade a bit as she moved back to take Holtz's hand.

"So all we've gotta do is wait until they figure out a fix. Only difference is I don't have to spend the next few years as a guinea pig, much as I love my communal rodents."

Erin sighed, looking down at Holtzmann. Over the last two years, her tremors had worsened to involuntary spasm-like movements as her nerves triggered randomly. She rocked compulsively when she sat, sitting still now an impossibility instead of just a difficult request. People could tell more that something was off about her, rather than just her inherent quirky behaviors they had come to expect. But she was still able to do most things on her own, if slowly, and in every way that mattered, she was still herself. Erin was grateful for that.

"You're right," she said, squeezing Holtz's hand firmly. "It's just…I want to do everything I can for you."

"You have. You are." Holtz pulled her closer, smirking. "And right now, that means keeping me busy so I don't hassle those s for updates every day."

"I think we're gonna have to keep both of you from doing that," Patty snorted.

Erin gave Holtzmann a coy smile. "Well, if that's what you need, I'm sure I can find ways to distract you."

"Yeah, you can," Holtz grinned, drawing her down for a kiss.

Erin heard Abby and Patty groan nearby and affectionately flipped them the finger.

As they separated, Holtz pushed back, face somber. "Hey, all seriousness though, I need you guys to promise me something."

"Of course," Erin replied, the others echoing her response.

"If we can't find a cure for this, I don't want anybody blaming themselves. I accepted this a long time ago, and I want to get at least ten more years in to beat the record, but if anything happens, that's just the way it is, okay? No guilt to go around."

Erin's heart clenched thinking about that outcome, knowing if that came to pass, no matter what she said now, she would always wish she could have done something more. But still, she nodded and patted Holtz's hand between hers. "I promise."

Holtz extracted her hand from Erin's and held it up, making an effort to clench all her fingers except the smallest one. "Pinkie swear."

Erin laughed now, catching the shaky finger with her own. "Pinkie swear."

"Come on, all of you," Holtz said, turning to Abby and Patty with both pinkies raised.

They shook on it too, the grim feeling in the room effectively broken.

"Okay, now spit in your palms," Holtz ordered.

"Uh-uh. Baby, we already swore on it," Patty said. "I'm not doing a spit shake too."

"Spit shake?" Holtz asked, puzzled, reaching for one of her probes. "I just have a conductivity experiment I want to try."

As Erin dissuaded her from using them as test subjects, she sent a wish of good luck to the researchers doing the trial.

OOO

The rest of the year passed slowly. With the knowledge that it could be years before the trial showed any practical results and every other lead already exhausted, distractions were harder to come by. At Patty and Abby's insistence, the couple finally took some time in their retirement to just be together, no ghosts, no research, just them.

They made a list of goals to accomplish while Holtzmann still had the health and mobility to do them, including a trip to the Marie Curie Museum in Poland, a concert in Vegas Erin had long had on her bucket list, a visit to Legoland that was on Holtz's and an actual lay-on-the-beach-sipping-fruity-drinks vacation far from anyone who knew them. Against all odds, an actual retirement.

Over the years, Erin was getting used to seeing the physical changes in Holtzmann. She knew she had her own share of changes, bitterly embracing the wrinkles and graying hair since Holtz swore they were just charming new aspects to her beauty. Being ten years younger, Holtz wasn't quite as far along that progression yet, but the neuromuscular symptoms of her disorder made her move like she was the older of the two. It still hurt both of them when she realized she couldn't do something she used to, but between them they could usually figure out an alternative or rig up a technological solution to help her retain some independence. And if she needed to walk slower than they once had, well, Erin certainly didn't mind taking their time instead of rushing to their destinations. Besides, her dancing had never relied on fluid, controlled movements anyway.

Erin could gauge the physical progression of Holtz's condition pretty clearly, and had prepared herself for it. The difficulty with motor control had set in slowly, and so she had gotten time to get used to that as their new normal, although she was sure it was still more difficult for Holtzmann to accept, no matter how much she kept her spirits up. Hearing about the internal effects was harder. Erin had tried not to cry the first time the doctors had started prescribing medications because several of Holtzmann's organs were showing reduced function. But as long as she kept up with her scheduled meds, which Erin made certain of, that at least seemed to be under control. She just took comfort that research on a cure was in the works and this would hopefully be a temporary situation.

Holtz's mental condition was much harder to get a sense of. To be fair, her baseline mental behaviors were a bit hard to predict even in her youth. Add on top of that the fact that all four of the teammates were postmenopausal now and forgetting what you were doing, misunderstanding each other, and feeling scatterbrained were relatively frequent occurrences for any of them. So it was hard to pinpoint exactly when the trouble really started to set in. But Erin knew exactly the moment it became real for them.

She had walked into the bedroom one afternoon to find Holtz sitting on the side of the bed, head resting on her closed fists, which she was tapping against her forehead, muttering to herself, agitated.

"Holtz," she said, cautious, but hurrying to her side. "Honey? What's wrong?"

Holtzmann looked up at her, eyes filled with desperate fear. "Er. What's our receptionist's name?"

That threw her. She tried to remember who was working at the firehouse these days. "Uh, the new girl? Allison, I think—"

But Holtz was shaking her head violently, eyes squeezed shut. "No. _Our_ receptionist. Big guy, forty-watt brain, but built like a god…"

A trickle of ice water slid down Erin's back. "You mean Kevin?"

"Kevin!" Holtz exalted. But instead of relief, she started bumping one fist against her forehead in rhythm as she repeated "Kevin, Kevin, Kevin", as if forcing his name back into her mind.

Trying to keep her fear from showing, Erin gently caught Holtz's fist, covering it with her hands to keep her from hurting herself. "That's just a momentary lapse," she ventured. "Happens to everybody. I've called Abby 'Patty' before."

"I've been trying to remember that for three days," Holtz said, voice dull and defeated. "I _saw_ him and couldn't remember it."

Erin rubbed her arm reassuringly. "We're all getting older, Holtz. These things happen."

"I can't remember pi beyond ten places anymore," Holtzmann said flatly. "I have to look up blueprints to remember how our proton packs worked. I don't remember what city I was born in or what college I did my undergrad at." She wiped her free hand across her eyes. "I could deal with that, all of it. But this is the first time I forgot something big about one of you guys."

Her face crumbled as tears started to roll down her cheek, her breath escalating with panic. "It's trying to take you guys!"

"No." Erin pulled Holtz against her, wrapping her tight in her arms as if she could shield her from the disorder. "It can mess up some of your memories, but it'll never take us. We're still here. I'm still here."

"I don't want to think you're a stranger someday," Holtz sobbed against her chest.

Tears burned Erin's eyes as her heart clenched. That fear had haunted her mind too. "We won't let that happen. If you lose any memories about us, we'll just make new ones to replace them, okay? We'll just keep making new ones so you never run out."

Holtz nodded, but continued clinging to her, not fully comforted. Not that anything could make the reality easier or less inevitable.

Erin kissed the top of her head, hating that some of those brilliant, intricate neurons could be flickering and dying even now, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

As she held Holtz and stroked her hair, she just hoped the research trial would come up with something soon.


	4. Chapter 4

One pattern Erin had seen in reading the few case studies that existed for Holtzmann's syndrome was that the damage seemed to set in slowly at first, then escalate in a cascade effect.

She would have sworn forgetting Kevin's name was like a crucial crack in the dam. Maybe it was just because she was looking for it now, but Holtz seemed to be deteriorating faster, her symptoms becoming increasingly pronounced to where Holtz couldn't hide it. When Abby told a story from their days at Higgins that Holtz couldn't remember, it upset her enough that Erin had to talk her down from a near panic attack at what she was losing. She kept promising no matter what, she wouldn't forget them.

Although the reassurance worked for that day, it didn't last for long. A few weeks later, Erin walked in on Holtzmann sitting on the couch holding one of her pictures of Dr. Gorin.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Erin had asked, intentionally cheerfully, automatically putting her hand beside Holtz's on the frame to hold the picture still.

Holtz didn't answer right away, which was something Erin was getting used to. Whether she needed more time for processing now or just had a hard time sorting through heavy emotions, as she had even before the disorder set in, Erin wasn't sure.

Finally Holtzmann let go with her left hand to tap the picture. "Who is this?"

Erin's heart tightened painfully. She kept her voice even as she answered. "That's Dr. Gorin."

"I kno—" Holtz cut herself off, squeezing her eyes shut in frustration. "I know her name. Who _is_ she?"

Erin paused, debating how to proceed without worsening Holtzmann's mood, since she had already snapped at being told what she still knew. "What _do_ you remember about her?"

Wrong choice. Holtzmann tossed the picture on the table, pushing up and away from the couch. "I _don't_ , Erin! I know that's Dr. Gorin and I know that's something really important, but I can't remember why, Er! I just—I can't!"

She stormed out of the room down the hallway, bracing herself along the wall. Erin stayed where she was, closing her eyes and breathing slowly to get her own temper under control. In the early days of their relationship, they both had a tendency to sulk after arguments, avoiding each other until Abby and Patty pushed them to deal with it. Now Erin knew well, from the hard-learned lessons that had cost her Abby's friendship for far too long, that running from conflict only made things worse. The fighter in her was stronger than it had been in her young adulthood. But Holtz didn't need Guns-blazing Erin right now. They both needed the more quietly stubborn Erin who wasn't willing to give up on a seemingly impossible problem.

After a few minutes for both of them to cool off, Erin got up and walked down the hall. She had expected to find Holtz curled on the bed, back to the door, but she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised her wife was instead sitting huddled on the floor in their work room. The sort of simplified lab didn't have nearly the array of equipment their old one had back when Holtz could still build without assistance, but it made the apartment feel more like home and the sight of Holtz seeking refuge among her tools and devices warmed Erin's heart with its familiarity.

She didn't speak right away, just walked in and sat down beside Holtzmann, ignoring the protest from the knee she had injured in a bust over a decade ago that never healed quite right. Holtz didn't acknowledge her, staring at the nicks in the treated wood floor in front of her as she shifted and rocked restlessly.

"What do you remember about MIT?" Erin asked, gently but steadily.

She thought she might be met with silence, but Holtz shrugged, jerking her head probably involuntarily. "Pieces. Stuff. Components, but no schematic."

Erin nodded, sitting back against the leg of the table to ease the ache in her back. "You were accepted at sixteen—Well, you were considered at fourteen, but the state made you wait until you could be legally emancipated."

"I know—"

Erin held up her hand to forestall an argument. "I'm getting to her."

Holtz relented, listening quietly.

"Even as a Freshman, you were way ahead of your classmates and tended to go beyond what was assigned. After you blew up one of the lab classrooms, instead of getting kicked out, you caught the attention of one of the graduate professors. And you started working with Rebecca."

Holtz's eyes widened in comprehension. " _That's_ why we named the cat Rebecca."

Erin smiled at the memory of the aloof, long-haired brown cat they had adopted early in their marriage to finally put to use all the cat toys Erin had bought when working up to getting a pet. The cat had well lived up to its namesake, tending to watch their work and antics humorlessly from a perch somewhere high on their shelves.

"That is why. She was your advisor and mentor and she taught you a lot of what you know about engineering. You were the only grad student she ever took on willingly. And the only one who lasted more than a semester with her. She made sure of that."

Holtz snorted a little laugh.

Erin glanced over at her affectionately, smiling. "I'll admit, I never really understood her. She was stern and had no patience for people and didn't seem like she ever laughed. But you… You were the only person I think she truly respected. She cared about you, and before you met Abby, I'm pretty sure she was the closest thing to family you had."

The slightly nostalgic look on Holtzmann's face fell, the brief lift in her mood sinking again. She buried her face in her arms folded on her knees. "I knew it. I knew this was gonna happen…"

"Hey, shhh…" Erin reached over and wrapped Holtz in her arms, pulling her over to lean against her body. Holtz's hand tried to grip at her shirt as she burrowed into Erin's side. "You knew she was important, that's big."

"Forgetting family is bigger," Holtzmann said, choked up.

"I know. But it probably makes sense. You hadn't seen her in years. She's been gone for almost ten years, since before your symptoms started kicking in. And even before then, she didn't visit often. It's not a great excuse, but—"

"She was here."

Erin looked down, brow furrowing. Somehow she wouldn't be surprised if Gorin had returned as a ghost, but Holtz would no doubt have mentioned that at some point.

"Not _here_ ," Holtz clarified, as if reading Erin's mind. "My old lab. At the firehouse. She visited when we moved there, checked over my equipment. A couple times." Her eyes turned up toward Erin's, wide with comprehension. "She was proud of me."

Erin felt tears stinging her eyes as she beamed, hugging Holtzmann closer. "Yes, she absolutely was."

"That's her." Holtz squeezed her back even tighter. "Still don't have everything, but…I can see her. I remember her."

Hope soared in Erin's heart. "So it didn't take everything. Maybe more memories are still there too; you just have to figure out how to reach them again. I mean, we know memory's like a muscle. If you don't use it, it atrophies."

"You know what this means," Holtzmann sat up, a welcome determination bringing a spark back to her eyes. "We need to start doing mental workouts. Get my brain looking like those bodybuilders, all bulgy with the veins sticking out."

"Very sexy image, Holtz," Erin grimaced, wiping her eyes.

"You think I should get some steroids? Worth a shot?"

"I don't think that'd help. Besides, you're on enough medications as it is."

"Eh, fair enough."

"You know that stuff's basically testosterone anyway, right?" Erin asked, helping Holtz to her feet.

"Oh yeah. Since menopause I don't really need help for that."

"No, we're all pretty well set these days."

"Hey, if I grow a mustache, can I wax it up like one of those old-timey guys in Westerns?"

Erin shook her head, wrapping her arm around Holtz's shoulders as they walked out of the lab. "You know what, if it makes you happy, sure."

"Sweet."

OOO

From then on, they made it a new tradition to get the team together once a week and go through photos and reminisce, trying to help Holtzmann keep her memories alive. Stimulation of neural pathways was known to slow degradation after all, so maybe, just maybe it could push off too much damage until a cure was found. The meetings usually were fun and they were able to have some good laughs at old stories, but now and then they just resulted in Holtz getting scared and frustrated enough at what she had lost to retreat to the bedroom.

In addition to those get-togethers, Holtz started working with Patty, the historian glad to help her in her nearly manic quest to get as much of her memories on paper or datafile before the disorder could steal them. Holtz did have a speech-to-text program for her computer they had gotten when she realized she couldn't write or type anymore, but she found Patty a far more reliable method of taking dictation, not to mention a much more enjoyable one to spend time with.

Having lunch with the girls over had become a new challenge, though. Holtzmann had ruefully accepted Erin's help now that her motor skills were getting bad enough that eating and brushing her teeth were too difficult to do by herself, but the idea of being fed in front of Abby and Patty embarrassed her. It was one thing to flirt and tease Erin into feeding her bites of dessert or fruit when they were younger. Needing her to do it because she _couldn't_ do it on her own just made Holtz feel like a patient instead of an active equal of her friends.

When Erin addressed the problem with Abby, they made a plan and worked together to invest in and build some of their own stabilizing equipment for Holtz's utensils and a few of her favorite tools to try to at least give her some of her dexterity back. It wasn't a complete solution, but Holtz did enjoy the new toys and it made her comfortable enough to eat with them again, so that was a victory.

They did their best to help, but it was still hard to counter all the psychological effects of the disorder. Even though they had gotten used to most of what was happening so that Holtz didn't have to feel like they were looking at her as different, they still had moments over meals that broke the air of normalcy. On several occasions, Holtz forgot she had just told a story or joke and told it again. They did their best not to call attention to the lapse, but apparently they couldn't fake their reactions enough to fool her. When she realized what had happened, it made her withdraw into a funk and they couldn't draw her out of it for the rest of the meal.

Everyday activities were becoming exhausting for her with the added level of difficulty her motor issues presented. Everything took longer and required more planning and, frequently, assistance from Erin so even something as basic as getting up at night to use the bathroom could be a two-person job. Her morning routine could take over an hour between showering, brushing her hair and teeth, and getting dressed in as many layers as she had the patience to sort out.

She was also limited in what she could do outside of the apartment, between how quickly her legs got tired and how many fewer things she could participate in, making her feel stir-crazy on top of everything. Of course, when they did go out, the looks and attention she got made her self-conscious and she was paranoid of media attention interfering and horning in on their lives. It started to feel like the majority of their trips out were simply to the multitude of doctor's appointments Holtz needed before pretty quickly retreating back to the relative simplicity of their apartment. Which was another point of contention and frustration.

The disorder felt like it was consuming her life. Patty had her family to keep her busy, Abby still helped with the Ghostbusters, and Erin got to write and help with research sometimes when physicists asked her to review their articles or act as a consultant, but lately, everything Holtz did was colored by her condition. Even if she wasn't at a doctor's appointment, working at a physical therapy appointment to try to slow her motor nerve damage, or engaging in a memory session with Patty to keep her brain itself in shape, she couldn't even do much at home by herself.

Erin never complained, even to herself, about the constant necessity for help and the extra strain it put on both of them, but she knew Holtzmann resented the situation. And since Erin was her primary caretaker, she was also the one to bear the brunt of Holtz's frustration and snappiness. Which, of course, only made Holtzmann feel worse, and no matter how much Erin reassured her, she still blamed herself for burdening Erin in what should be her retirement.

At one point, she caught Holtzmann trying to make lunch for herself, clearly not wanting to bother Erin from where she had been reading on the couch. Erin made herself stay back, letting Holtzmann try. If she could manage for herself, it would be a great moment for her self-esteem and she need never know Erin had seen her.

But despite her stabilizing tools and determination, things did go awry. Maybe she had been too ambitious, trying to juggle assembling a sandwich while cooking soup, but she got so focused on layering the sandwich fixings carefully that the soup started boiling over behind her back and triggered the smoke alarm. Startled, she scrambled to turn off the heat and move the pot, but apparently it was heavier when full than she'd expected and she wound up dropping it, spilling the soup across the floor.

As she cursed and kicked the cabinet, she saw Erin in the doorway and Erin knew from the look in her eyes this wasn't going to be good.

Holtz had curled into a corner of the couch while Erin cleaned up. Despite Erin's reassurance and lack of judgment, she had retreated into a dark mood, lost in her embarrassment, anger, and depression.

"You should've just let me blow myself up years ago," she grumbled, barely loud enough for Erin to hear. "Be better for everybody."

Erin had frozen briefly, shock running through her. She brought the successful part of Holtz's lunch preparation over to the coffee table with a drink, setting it down, and crouched in front of her. "Well, I, for one, am thankful you didn't. Whatever happens, please don't ever think that."

Holtzmann just gave a noncommittal grunt. Erin kissed her on the forehead and gave her some space to eat without worrying about being observed or hovered over, while giving herself time to go into the bathroom and have a muffled cry about the very thought of that scenario.

She knew Holtz was in a low moment, and Holtz apologized sincerely later, hugging her tightly, but hearing her say that stabbed deeply into Erin's heart and stuck with her. It was the first time in all these years she had heard Holtzmann regret being alive and it let her know how bad her condition was really getting behind her efforts to stay optimistic.

The thought lingered in the back of Erin's mind for the next few days as they continued their routine, fixing meals together, talking or watching TV to stay entertained, doing her physical exercises, then the more fun mental exercises. Erin tried one of the more enjoyable games they had found: singing old favorite songs together. For some reason, lyrics were sticking around in Holtzmann's mind better than names and facts, so it typically was a fun and easy spirit-booster. But tonight even putting on "Rhythm of the Night" didn't perk Holtz up as much as it used to, and Erin finally accepted that she knew what she had to do.

So that night, as they lay in bed with Erin wrapped around Holtz, who was shivering and curled up fetally in the wake of a bad vomiting spell—her latest medication wasn't reacting well with the others yet, but if she didn't take it the pain was worse than the nausea—Erin made the choice to put aside her selfish wants and say what needed to be said.

"Hard to believe it's been six years since we officially retired," she said gently, testing Holtz's mental state.

"Six to go," Holtz rasped dully, proving her mind was in the present moment.

Erin swallowed. When this all started, it had seemed like they had such a short time left together. Now, the thought of making her go on like this, or progressively worse, for another six years seemed interminably cruel. It made her mind up further.

"You know, you don't have to push yourself for some arbitrary goal. Nobody's going to think less of you if that…doesn't happen."

Holtz stilled, as much as she could. Her next words broke Erin's heart. "Er…you ready to be done with this?"

"No!" Erin said quickly, hugging Holtz's back closer against her. "I just…I know how miserable you are now and it's only been a few years. The trial's no closer to having a treatment anytime soon and the thought of you having to suffer so much longer…" She broke off, having to loosen her throat around her words. "I don't want to lose you, ever, but I also love you and want you to be happy. Not drag yourself through years of agony for some…meaningless record or…or for me."

Hot tears leaked from her eyes, but she forced her voice to press on. "So I just wanted you to know, if it gets to that day where it's bad enough…it's okay. To let go. I understand."

Just saying those words felt like tearing her heart out.

There was a moment of quiet. Then Holtzmann, with great effort, rolled over to face Erin, taking in her eyes and expression. Erin blinked through her tears so she could absorb every feature of the woman she had loved all these years too. She tried to remember when she had seen Holtzmann wear her hair in its iconic style. As things got more difficult, she had opted to cut it short since she couldn't style it herself or sit still enough to have one of the others do it and now the mostly-silver curls tangled loosely around her face. She looked decades older than a woman in her fifties should, her skin drawn and sallow, tight with pain and discomfort except for the occasional twitches. She shifted involuntarily on the mattress, unable to fully stop the random muscle movements that plagued her even when relaxed. But through it all, her eyes, although a duller shade of blue than they had been, still focused on Erin with an intensity that made her shiver.

Holtz laboriously lifted her shaking hand to Erin's face, letting Erin steady it gently against her cheek as she wiped at the tears there.

"It's not that day," she said softly, but with conviction. "But thank you. We'll call that Plan Z."

Erin gave a sob of joy at hearing Holtz remember such a small reference from years before. Holtzmann managed a familiar smirk for her and Erin held her close, kissing her, and let herself pretend for a moment that it was old times, when things were easy and the worst they had to worry about were ghosts.


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm sorry this chapter took so long to write! Summer semester started and my courseload, lab prep, and coaching an undergrad research group is taking an inordinate amount of time. Hopefully the length of this chapter will make up for the delay. Part of it that was intended to be one paragraph became an entire scene.**

* * *

Erin supposed it was simply inevitable that as time went on, the bad days would ever increasingly outnumber the good. Even with her numerous medications, pain and discomfort were a daily part of Holtz's life. She needed assistance walking, whether with a cane, another person to lean on, or furniture to brace against, but refused a wheelchair since she wasn't in any condition to design or enhance one herself. Despite the practice, her memory was still getting spottier and Erin frequently found partially-finished activities around the apartment that Holtzmann had forgotten she was doing midway through. Speech was coming more difficultly, frustrating Holtz that she couldn't as easily express what was in her mind. Whether it was the exhaustion or the depression, she spent more of the day sleeping than awake, though mostly in short spells before her aches or vivid dreams woke her up.

The next progression caught them both by surprise, though. Erin was dozing off over a documentary on the latest in interstellar travel thanks to this irregular sleep pattern when Holtz's alarmed voice jerked her immediately awake.

"Erin!"

"Holtz?" She was on her feet, rushing to the bedroom where Holtzmann had previously been resting. Panic raced in her veins.

Holtz was on her feet, braced against the footboard of the bed. To Erin's relief, she didn't appear hurt, but she was glaring high up at one of the walls, moving toward her night stand. "Erin…good. Need your…pack."

Erin stopped, trying to put together what she had just walked in on. "My what?"

"Proton…pack. Or your…gun, your shotgun." She pulled open the drawer of the night stand, shoving a hand through the items within. "Got a ghost…in the apartment."

"Wha—That's impossible," Erin frowned, brow creasing. They had all put a great deal of time and effort into ghost-proofing their residences, with the finest ionized shielding and spectral detection grids they could invent. These security systems had ensured none of them brought their work home with them or put Patty's family in danger of a ghost taking revenge through them. Nothing should have been able to enter their apartment, and if anything somehow had, it should have set off their sensors.

"I know, but…I saw it." Holtz shoved the drawer shut with an irritated grunt, pointing up at the corner of the ceiling. "Class II…coming through the…vent thing."

"The air vent?" Erin squinted up at the slats. "The positronic grid should hold even with the friction from the air passing through. Did the power fluctuate?"

"Don't know." Holtz opened another drawer.

"We haven't kept weapons in the bedroom since you scared the cat after a nightmare."

Holtz growled again. "Fine. Get yours. I'll…keep watch."

Erin flicked a look around the room again, but obeyed, ducking down the hall to the workroom where she still had her ghostbusting equipment in most-likely working order. Taking her pack, she left the shotgun, knowing discharging that could blow a hole through the wall and she didn't want to deal with home repairs.

When she returned, Holtz was standing braced against the dresser, scanning the room for any signs of movement. As Erin entered, Holtz held a hand out expectantly as if waiting for Erin to pass her her own weapon, then seemed to remember she couldn't aim at anything anymore even if she could pull the trigger.

"Where did it go when it came in?" Erin asked, hoping to distract her from the reminder of her condition.

"Not…sure." Holtz made a gesture around the ceiling. "Kinda…looped. Lost track. Was looking for…gun."

"Okay. So it could be anywhere." Erin turned the barrel of her proton wand cautiously from door to door, putting herself between Holtzmann and the most obvious directions the ghost might appear from.

It was a subconscious move, but Holtz noticed it. "Erin…don't fight it…alone," she said, somewhat quietly. "Call…Abby. Patty."

Erin glanced back over her shoulder, feeling a weird little pang at busting a ghost without Holtz as an active participant, but nodded. "You keep an eye out for it, okay? Let me know if it comes back."

Holtz straightened, looking more determined with a job to do. Erin turned her attention to getting out her phone and calling the rest of the team, explaining the situation.

In the fifteen minutes they waited for the others to arrive, the ghost didn't put in a further appearance. With only two of them, they could only keep an eye on one or two rooms at a time, but there wasn't even a rustle of poltergeist activity or APX shift. At one point, Holtz thought she heard a disembodied voice laughing, but Erin didn't catch it and there was no follow-up.

Once Abby and Patty came in with their own packs, they were able to spread out and cover more ground. Even then, though, there was no sign of paranormal activity. Abby scanned every available nook and cranny with the PKE meter. Patty reached up to the vent to swab for ectoplasm. They spent well over an hour scoping out the entire apartment and didn't get a single blip on their scanners nor drop of slime.

By that point, a grim suspicion was forming in Erin's mind. She wanted to be wrong. It was too spiteful, too cruel of the universe to put her in this position, too vile in its irony. And yet, as Abby met her eyes after yet another negative sweep of the living room, she knew her friend had had the same thought. And acknowledged the weight of it.

"I don't know about y'all, but I'm just getting a whole lot of nothing," Patty said, walking over from the kitchen.

"Yeah," Erin said, voice dull with resignation. "Think it's time to call it quits."

Abby put a hand on her arm. "You want me to—?" she asked, gesturing toward the bedroom, where Holtzmann still stood watch for the spirit's presence.

"No." Erin shook her head. "I'm okay."

Patty frowned between them. "What's going on?"

Abby whispered an explanation to her as Erin walked back to the bedroom, feeling like there was lead in her shoes.

Holtz's eyes darted from one corner of the room to the other as she quietly called, "Here, ghosty…ghosty ghosty… Easy prey. Come…mess with me."

Erin swallowed hard, bracing herself. "Hey, Holtz."

Holtzmann jerked her head to look over. "Hey. No…luck?"

"No." Erin came over to stand beside Holtzmann, who was probably noticing her proton wand was holstered again. "We've searched the entire apartment. There's no sign of a ghost or any other abnormal phenomena."

Holtz's brow furrowed. Then her eyes widened. "It got out. The…neighbors—"

Erin caught her hand before she could scramble to get the others, holding it between her own gently. "Honey, there's no sign of anything at all. Not even ectoplasmic residue on the vent, which would be guaranteed if a ghost passed through it."

Holtz opened her mouth to argue, then seemed to register Erin's words. Her face went stony, eyes searching Erin's incredulously. "I saw it."

"I know." Nausea rolled in Erin's stomach at having to say this. "I believe you saw something. I just…I don't think—" … _it was real._

Holtzmann pulled her hand out of Erin's, backing away, the betrayal in her eyes ripping into Erin's heart. "No…"

Tears were welling in Erin's eyes, but she forced her voice to be as steady as possible through her tight throat. "I'm not saying you're wrong. It's just…They told us hallucinations were a likely side effect once the visual and temporal areas started being affected…"

Holtz had squeezed her eyes shut, giving out a harsh laugh that was half-sob. "You… Of all…people, _you_?"

"That's just it, Holtz!" Erin said desperately. " _I_ would never even suggest something like that unless I was sure. I'm not calling you crazy, Holtz. I believe you. But I'm following the evidence. Our equipment—the equipment _you_ built—is finding nothing. If there was even the slightest sign, I would still be looking. I promise."

Holtzmann was backed against a wall now, shaking her head. "I saw it…"

"I know." Erin's tears were running freely now, but she focused on her wife. "But remember when you heard the microwave go off yesterday when nothing was in it? Or when you thought you heard Patty say something when we were having lunch the other day and she wasn't with us?"

Holtz didn't say anything else, just staring at the floor from her huddled spot. Feeling useless and like a monster, Erin glanced back to where Abby and Patty were hovering near the door, looking equally miserable and unsure what to do.

Before she could figure out what to say or do next, she heard the noise of Holtzmann slipping along the wall. She turned back to see Holtz using the edge of the mattress to clumsily guide herself to sitting on the side of the bed, still staring at the ground near her feet.

She sniffled once, letting out a shaky breath. "So…false…alarm, huh?" she said, voice dull. "Holtzy sorry."

"Hey, got nothing to apologize for," Patty piped up, trying to inject some critically needed cheer into the situation. "Feels pretty good to be out busting ghosts together again. We should do this more often."

The attempt failed to draw any reaction from Holtz, whose eyes never left the ground.

"We're gonna do another sweep of the place before we head out," Abby said casually. "And we'll keep an eye out in the rest of the building in case something did get loose." She squeezed Erin's shoulder, met her eyes, and held her thumb and pinkie up to her ear like a phone, mouthing 'Call me later'.

Erin nodded and bid them goodbye. She knew she was definitely going to need the time with Abby to process her own emotional fallout over this, but for now, she needed to be with Holtz.

With the room to themselves again, Erin cautiously walked over to the bed and sat down beside Holtzmann. She wanted to hold her and forget this was all happening, but wasn't sure if Holtz would tolerate being touched right now, so she left a bit of distance between them.

"Are they…mad?" Holtz asked softly after a moment.

"What? No, of course not." Erin didn't know if Holtz genuinely hadn't heard the others' reassurances or just didn't trust that they were sincere.

Holtz nodded. "Are you?"

"No." It came out more vehemently than soothing, but screw it. "At the universe for doing this to us, sure, but never at you. Not for something like this."

Holtz nodded again. Then she licked her lips. "Well. At least I…didn't get…boring…when I got…old."

Erin gave a chuckle, relieved to hear some humor back in Holtzmann's voice. "Somehow, I don't think that was ever an option for you."

With the tense air broken, she leaned over and kissed the top of Holtz's head, then stood up. "I'm going to get us something to eat—"

But she stopped as Holtz's hand reached out to bat her arm. She looked down curiously, heart clenching again at the scared, pleading look in Holtzmann's eyes. "You'll…help me know…what's real?"

Erin's breath caught in her chest. And a part of her mind was struck that the former Ghost Girl was now being entrusted with telling reality from delusion for her genius engineer wife. She caught Holtz's extended hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. "Always."

Then she smiled. "For example…"

Erin crouched down in front of Holtzmann, gently drawing her head forward for a kiss. As they separated, she breathed. "That's real."

Holtz snorted, a little smirk curving the corner of her mouth. "Please. Even…crazy…I know _that_."

Erin beamed and wrapped Holtz in tight, warm hug. God, she was thin these days. It was like holding a bird, scared of breaking the fragile bones within. Relaxing back, Erin gave Holtzmann a hand to her feet and steadied her on the way to the living room.

"You want a snack?"

Holtz shrugged, nose wrinkling a bit to indicate she didn't have much appetite.

"How about we make some popcorn and snuggle on the couch for a while?"

"Think I can…manage that. And if…nothing's on…TV, I can just…watch what…my brain makes up."

A deep pride filled Erin's chest at the strength Holtz had to still find a way to joke about everything going on. "Just make sure you tell me all about it."

OOO

They tried adapting to the new challenge on top of their already complicated daily routines. Any time Holtz heard or saw something she had doubts about, she would ask Erin for verification, but Erin could tell there were a fair amount of times she didn't question or notice. Occasionally she seemed to be answering a question no one asked or Erin would notice her eyes following something invisible around the room. Her memories got even more confused with reality and delusion blending like waking dreams.

Erin felt Holtzmann pulling back, even if it wasn't intentional. The strain of trying to keep track of reality wore her out faster and made her edgy and snappy. She zoned out frequently now. Many times Erin walked into a room and saw Holtz just sitting in a chair or at a table, staring into space. She wanted to check on her and shake her out of it, but wasn't sure where Holtz's mind was during those times and was afraid what jarring her out of that state might do to her already fracturing mind.

Abby had started insisting on coming over every day and helping out where she could. Patty would bring over "extra" from family dinners so she didn't have to cook. Exhausted as she was, Erin was grateful for the assistance, even if she felt guilty thinking of anything relating to Holtz as being like a burden or weight. But as the others reminded her, she was in her sixties now and it was okay to be tired and need a break now and then. This hardly felt fair, since inside she felt like she hadn't changed since her thirties, but her body said otherwise.

On top of everything, Holtz's medications seemed to be having less and less effect on the ailments affecting her. Even at the highest strength the doctor had approved, she was still in pain more often than not, her muscles constantly sore from the spasms and cramps. She got phantom pains and tingles from sensory nerves misfiring and rarely got enough relief from her unsettled stomach to eat substantial meals. And now she was just feeling—the only description she would give Erin was "blah". Which seemed to involve mild feverish symptoms and generally feeling sick.

Feeling increasingly helpless, Erin kept hoping for word from the research trial on _something_. Unfortunately, when she asked during their latest appointment with Holtz's specialist, he clarified that even if a new treatment or drug regimen became available that day, in all likelihood, the best it would be able to do was prevent further degradation and ease some of the secondary symptoms. Full nerve tissue regeneration still eluded medicine and there were no instant cures. The damage already done was unlikely to be undone.

On top of that devastating proclamation, he found that the cause of Holtz's most recent discomfort was that her kidneys had basically moved to first in line for complete organ failure, and very soon. The doctor said he would put her on a transplant list, but cautioned them that younger, healthier patients would most likely be given priority and even then it wouldn't stop the rest of her organ trouble. At this point, the next step was pretty much dialysis and, very soon, a move into permanent residency in an advanced care facility.

Neither of them spoke much on the ride home. Erin knew she should be reassuring Holtz, but her own strength was at a limit and she wasn't sure she could do more than not sink into a depression of her own and become nonresponsive to the world. When they got home, she went to the bedroom to take her shoes off and wound up flopping on the bed, unable to move with the sheer weight of pain and grief settling over her.

Holtzmann climbed onto the bed beside her, lying down and stroking her back. "'s okay, Erin. I've…known this…was coming…for…decades."

"I failed you," Erin said into the mattress, nearly a sob.

"Erin. You…promised."

"I know. I let you down."

" _No._ " Holtz pushed the side of her head so she had to turn and look at Holtz's face laid right next to hers. "You…pinkie swore. No…blaming…yourself."

Erin looked at her for a moment, allowing herself to remember back to that day early in it all when there had still seemed like so much time to find an answer. She sighed. "You're right. Let me help you get changed and fix dinner," she said, starting to push herself up.

"Shhh." Holtz's hand pressed on her head, discouraging her from moving. "Stay. Hug me."

Erin snorted a small laugh at the sternness of the command and obeyed, scooting over to cuddle Holtz against her. She stroked her hair, still thinking about the news they had gotten. "Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe you'll just need to be in the hospital a couple months or a year and then they'll develop a cure. Or at least…mobile dialysis treatment, or something. This might not be a permanent arrangement."

She craned her neck to look down and realized Holtzmann had dozed off already. Erin kissed her forehead, then shifted to get comfortable beside her and settled in to stay, although she knew she wouldn't be able to get to sleep so easily.

Well, spending the next few years caring for Holtzmann in a medical facility wasn't the outcome she had hoped for this point, but then nothing about Holtzmann's condition really was. They made the best of it and rode it out together, and Erin swore she would continue to be there for her however long this part of the journey lasted.

OOO

A few days later, Erin woke to being kissed on the neck. She smiled, enjoying the feeling and rolling over to thread her arm around Holtzmann. "Morning," she murmured.

"Morning," her wife returned, kissing her fully now that she could reach her lips. "Guess who's…not feeling…completely…like shit today."

"Yeah?" Erin squinted her eyes open. The warm, late morning sunlight lay in beams across the bed, shining off Holtzmann's skin as she leaned over Erin. She definitely seemed in better spirits than Erin had seen in weeks. She dared to wonder if maybe Holtz's lapses in memory were letting her forget about the prognosis the doctor had given her. Well, either way, Erin was certainly willing to go with that reality for now. "Any thoughts how you'd like to celebrate such a rare occasion?"

"Got a couple…ideas," Holtz grinned, moving her knee between Erin's thighs.

Erin inhaled, nearly a gasp at the long-missed sensation. "Mm. Yep. Those are good ideas. Anything else? Not that I would complain about just staying in bed doing that all day."

Holtz took a deep breath and Erin opened one eye further to see the nervous look on her face as she ducked her head slightly. "If it's not…a problem, you think…could we go…to the…firehouse? Visit a bit?"

Erin blinked in surprise. Holtzmann hadn't asked to go back to the firehouse in years, not since her symptoms had gotten too pronounced to hide. Being around strangers was awkward enough, but people who knew her before the disorder had set in?

But maybe she _hadn't_ forgotten about her impending hospitalization and wanted to see the place that had been their home for so much of their lives for what was potentially the last time, at least for a long while.

"Of course," Erin said, running her fingers through Holtzmann's hair. "Absolutely. I'm sure they'd love to see you. If you're sure you feel up to it?"

Holtz nodded decisively. "And after…do you think…dinner with…Abby and…Patty?"

Erin smiled. "I think that sounds like a very good day. Let me send them a text to let them know—"

She reached over to the bedside table, picking up her phone, then jumped as Holtz's arm shot out and knocked it out of her hand. "Wha—?"

Holtz had a mischievous grin on her face. "I had…ideas first…remember?"

"Ah," Erin managed as Holtz's knee pressed against her in a very persuasive way, "you always do have the best ideas…"

They spent the morning in a blissful zone of lazy lovemaking. While Holtz might not have had the range she once had, she and Erin had worked out new rhythms where she could still manage a number of things they both enjoyed with just some assistance from Erin when needed. And Erin enjoyed the fact that, at least for a brief interlude, she could give Holtz enough pleasurable sensation to overpower the illness and pain for a spell.

Reluctantly, they finally dragged themselves out of bed when the alarm on Erin's phone reminded them it was time for Holtzmann's meds, which needed to be taken with food. Erin fixed them lunch, which she was delighted to see Holtz had an appetite for, and they ate together. After that, they showered together and Erin helped Holtz pick out an outfit and style her short hair in something resembling the effect of her traditional style. The fact that she was motivated enough to have a definite opinion about how she looked for their trip to the firehouse made Erin happy.

The current Ghostbusters crew were delighted by the surprise visit from two of the women who started it all. While Abby and Patty stopped in with some amount of frequency, Erin and Holtz hadn't been seen there in years. Erin appreciated that the younger ghost hunters hid any shock they had at how different Holtz looked from the days she was actively part of the team and still talked to her with deference and respect.

Holtz did notice some of their mostly concealed hesitancy, but to Erin's relief she wasn't fazed by it. "Don't worry," she said to one of the scientists who seemed more spooked by her tremors and irregular movements. "Just got…a few more…moves…than I…used to."

Holtzmann made her way slowly around the ground floor of the firehouse with the help of her stylish cane and Erin at her side, ready to steady her the instant her legs tired or gave out. But she made it without an issue. When she reached the fireman's pole, she brought a shaky hand up to brush against it and Erin briefly worried she would have to talk her out of trying to slide down it.

Instead, Holtz just turned to her with a smile. "They…kept it."

"Yeah," Erin said, smiling back. "They did."

"Would you like to come up to the lab and see what we're working on?" the young engineer asked, obvious hero worship and desire for approval in their eyes.

Holtzmann grinned. "That…sounds awesome."

They took the elevator that had been added to the firehouse when the Ghostbusters took on their first paraplegic team member. The look on Holtz's face when she saw her lab again made the entire trip worthwhile in one instant. She limped out into the room, her hand trailing along the edge of a workbench affectionately, absorbing the sights, smells, and sounds of her former lab like a prisoner soaking in the sunlight after being deprived for years. Erin followed quietly, beaming at the obvious joy in her wife's demeanor.

Jesse, the engineer, pointed out the new equipment they had added to the lab since Holtz's day and brought out a few of their latest creations to demonstrate. Holtz's eyes glittered with pride at each invention, clearly impressed with the work their protégées were continuing.

"You know what'd…make this…even…cooler?" Holtz said as Jesse explained the shoulder-mounted PKE-sensor they were working on so the team could essentially have eyes in the back of their heads when in the field.

"Please," Jesse gestured encouragingly for Holtz to make whatever adjustments she wanted.

"If you open…that up…" she said, waving for Jesse to get them access to the circuitry inside the housing. "Move those…wires and…stuff. Want to…access the…modulator and…sensor…heads. Nice. 'Kay, now we…"

She turned and started to go retrieve something, but froze, her eyes darting around the lab, perplexed. "It's not—"

"Holtz?" Erin asked, getting up from her stool by the workbench, the easy atmosphere abruptly broken.

Holtzmann was now staring around the lab, upset and confused. "It's not…right. Somebody…moved…my stuff. That's not…where it goes."

"Holtz, it's okay." Erin had been afraid of this. She moved to gently get Holtz's focus by touching her upper arms.

"The voltage…probes…belong over… _there_ ," Holtz insisted, getting distraught. "It's…wrong, Erin! Everything's wrong!"

"Holtz," Erin insisted, putting her face right in Holtz's eyeline so she had to look at her. "It's okay. We're retired now, remember? It's Jesse's lab now. That's why it's different. Nobody messed with your stuff. I promise."

As she rubbed Holtzmann's arms, she saw the confusion fade from her eyes. The panic calmed and Holtz looked down at the floor, one hand coming up to fidget with the arm of her glasses to hide her embarrassment.

"Okay?" Erin asked softly.

Holtz gave a small nod, still avoiding her gaze. "Can I get…water?"

"Sure, of course. You want a minute?"

Holtz nodded again, jerkily.

"Okay, if you want to sit down, I'll be right back."

She gestured for Jesse and the other Ghostbusters to follow her up to the lounge and give Holtzmann some privacy to get her dignity back.

As she found a glass and poured some ice water from the pitcher in the fridge, Erin heard one of the younger teammates give a low whistle.

"Does that happen a lot?" he asked, clearly referring to Holtz's memory lapse.

"She has good moments and bad moments," Erin said casually, not comfortable talking about Holtzmann like a patient. "That was…one of the bad moments."

He shook his head. "Must be tough."

She bristled slightly, not certain if he was pitying her for having to take care of Holtzmann, but resenting it either way. "It's hard on her, yes," she replied instead.

Figuring she had given Holtz enough time to get her bearings back without stewing on her embarrassment for too long, she headed back down with a drink for each of them.

Jesse followed behind, not having made any comment about the Bad Moment. To Erin's surprised delight, the engineer simply picked up a voltage probe from its new location as they headed back to the workbench, passed it to Holtz, and said, "So you were saying about the modulator?"

Erin's heart warmed in gratitude to the young engineer as Holtz relaxed, letting the moment pass and getting back to showing her successor how to widen the sensor's range to detect even more types of energy and open up the option to add a weapon that could shoot the ghost before the wearer had time to turn around and deal with it. She settled in to watch her wife at work, glad that if they were heading for long-term hospitalization, at least Holtz was getting one last day in her lab, building the things she loved, and passing on her knowledge to the next generation.

When Abby and Patty arrived, Holtz looked up with a wide grin. Despite her fears from the beginning, the disorder had so far never stopped her from recognizing her family. Abby and Patty were surprised how moved they were to see their friend back where she belonged, proudly showing off the Jesse-Holtz Rear-facing Ghost Detector (or "Spectral Back-watcher", as Holtzmann suggested).

Bidding the team farewell and giving Jesse enough praise that Erin thought they might melt from hero-worship, the original Ghostbusters headed out for an easy dinner.

Since none of them wanted public attention interrupting their rare meal out together, and since eating in public even with her stabilizing tools still made Holtz self-conscious, Abby and Patty had made arrangements to get a private room at the restaurant they chose. Holtz pouted a bit at not being told where they were going and when they pulled up to the building, she didn't realize the significance until a few details started clicking in her mind.

Zhu's had long since moved on to a bigger property and the building had changed hands several times, but the current Italian restaurant was good and the owners respected its origins. Holtzmann grinned as she patted a plaque by the door that read "Site of the original Ghostbusters headquarters and lab."

Erin had to hand it to the girls. It was incredibly sentimental returning to the second floor loft that had been where they started it all. Granted, now it was converted into an intimate dining area and the walls were painted with grapevines and stucco, but Erin could still pick out where the proton packs had hung, where Kevin's desk had been, and where Holtzmann's equipment had sprawled across the now oddly clean room.

They reminisced over the times spent there over plates of pasta and enough sauce Erin was sure they would be up all night with heartburn, but it was worth it. As with so much of their lives now, they found Holtz didn't remember everything that had happened during their time here, but rather than get upset, Erin saw her choose to stay in a good mood, instead listening to the stories of their ridiculousness intently and prompting, "And then what…did I…do?"

To Erin's delight, Holtz did remember dancing for her their first day there. She insisted if it weren't for the clichéd Italian music and lack of blowtorches, she would recreate the scene for them right now. Warm with memory and a bit of red wine, Erin pulled up "Rhythm of the Night" on her phone and took the challenge to do her best to reenact the moment for them. The effort earned her huge whoops from the rest of the Ghostbusters and an adoring joy on Holtzmann's face. As the song ended and gave way to the restaurant's usual music again, Erin took the impulse to gently pull Holtzmann to her feet for a careful slow dance in the middle of their former headquarters. She let her head rest on Holtz's shoulder, even though she was doing most of the supporting, and relished the rare moment of peaceful romance.

Eventually the carbs and activity of the day caught up to them and they all retired back to Erin and Holtz's apartment for the evening. They chatted lazily for a few more hours, though Holtz was starting to zone out more frequently and Erin could see she was fighting to stay awake with the stubbornness of a child on Christmas Eve. By ten o'clock, they finally agreed it was time to call it a night.

"Thanks for sharing your good day with us," Abby said as she pulled on her coat. "It's been way too long since we did something like that."

"I'm just glad to know a couple old ladies like us can still tear up the town," Patty grinned, hugging Erin good night.

Erin noticed Patty hugged Holtzmann a little longer than usual, murmuring something quietly before they separated, and wondered if Holtz had confided the doctor's prognosis to her. Erin hadn't planned on telling the others until it was a certainty, but it was Holtz's health, so if she wanted to let them know, it was her call.

Holtz hugged Abby tightly too, though whether that was because she was thinking about her imminent hospitalization or just because she was being Holtz, it was hard to know. They bid their friends good night and settled in for their evening routine.

With the others gone, it was obvious Holtz had been putting on a show of feeling better than she did by the end. The exertion of the day had worn her out and she was clearly hurting as they got changed and cleaned up for the night. Erin helped her take her evening meds, including some antacids since the spicy pasta sauce had caught up with her, massaged her cramping legs, which weren't used to walking for such long periods anymore, and snuggled into bed beside her.

"Wish I had…energy…for an…encore of…this morning," Holtz slurred sleepily.

"That's okay. After all that food, I don't really want to move that much," Erin sighed, pulling Holtzmann against her. The tremors and spasms were more severe tonight from the overuse of her muscles and Erin rubbed her back soothingly.

Holtz leaned back enough to look up at her, her face sincere and serious. "I'm…so lucky…to have you…Er."

Even all these years later, such sentiments still warmed Erin's heart like they were newly in love. "I'm the lucky one, Holtz."

Holtz grunted disagreement, but made an effort to wrap her arm around Erin, burrowing her face into her neck. "Love you. Make…everything…worth it."

Erin smiled into her hair. "You're getting overtired and sentimental. Get some sleep."

Holtz kissed her throat, making a protesting noise even though her eyes were closed. "Just…want you…to know that. 'S important."

Erin brushed her hair back from her temple and kissed her forehead. "I do. And I adore you too. Now rest."

"Good night…Er," Holtz said around a yawn.

"Good night, Holtz." Erin kissed her again and curled up to fall asleep together.


	6. Chapter 6

When Erin woke late in the morning, she stretched lazily, warm with the lingering peace of the previous day. There was no rush to get up, so she burrowed her head further into the pillow, denying the sun streaming through the window. She realized that sometime in the night she had rolled to the edge of the bed, so she turned over, her arm reaching out to find Holtz again.

As soon as she touched her, she knew. And even before her eyes shot open, her heart shattered.

She remembered shaking her to try to wake her up, even though she already knew. She remembered the panic as she called 911, barely able to coherently communicate what was going on. She remembered standing in the bedroom as she waited, too scared to touch her again, not really wanting to look at her, but not wanting to leave her alone either. And she remembered the EMTs and police arriving, gently guiding her out of the room so they could work, even though it was clear there was nothing that could be done.

And now she was sitting on the couch—their couch—in the living room trying to answer a kind officer's questions as if she could reasonably be expected to think when her world had just been ripped from her. The officer's voice was gentle and compassionate, but his questions were necessary and professional, and even though Erin knew it was simply procedure for them to rule out foul play, the very implication that she could have been responsible, that she could have played a part in _that_ , curdled sick rage in Erin's stomach. But she didn't even have the energy to take it out on the officer and soon enough, the interview was over. The officer had asked if he could call someone for her, but she had declined.

And so now she sat alone, her phone in hand, staring at it with unfocused eyes, unable to summon the motivation to make the call herself. She was wrapped in mental shields, shutting out the muffled voices from down the hall where, just out of sight, in the intimate space of their bedroom, the EMTs and police were processing, documenting, and confirming. It should have been enough to have Erin purging her stomach, the thought of what they were doing, but she found she felt a strange detachment from what they were examining there. _That_ wasn't Holtzmann. She had felt that immediately. It was just the tissue and bone and matter she had used in life. Erin's Holtzmann wasn't there, the soul that had made her who Erin knew and loved. She had become the energy that had been their passion and focus of study her whole life.

On some cold, distant level, Erin supposed that was a vaguely soothing thought.

She stared down at her phone screen. She knew she had to make her trembling fingers coordinate long enough to bring up the number she needed, knew what needed to be done, and yet she couldn't. Because as soon as she did, it was real. It wasn't just a nightmare she might still wake up from. She had to say the words with her own mouth and, like some magic spell, make it part of her reality.

Closing her eyes, Erin took a shaky breath and steadied herself. They needed to know. Putting it off wouldn't make it stop being real. Forcing herself to function, she touched the screen to activate it. She sucked in a breath when the background picture of herself and Holtz from their time as Ghostbusters sprang onto the screen. She almost broke then. Could have so easily. But she closed her eyes, swiped past the picture to her contacts, and made herself hold on just a bit longer. Without a hesitation, Erin picked the contact for the one person who had been there since childhood every time life got untenable.

The phone only rang twice before Abby picked up. Of course, it was late morning; she would already be awake. "Hey, Erin. What's up?"

"Abby…"

Even Erin could hear how wrong her voice sounded. Abby caught it immediately. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"She's gone," Erin managed despite her voice cracking loudly. "She didn't wake up."

She heard Abby curse and felt tears starting to escape and slide hot paths down her cheeks. It was official now. The truth extended beyond the too-quiet walls of their apartment and was a part of the real world.

"Erin, I—Jesus. Shit. Are you alone? Need me to call 911?"

"No, they're already here." Erin sniffled. "They're taking care of her."

"Okay. Okay. I'm coming. Hold on, okay? I'll call Patty and we'll be there as fast as we can."

"Okay," Erin agreed, relieved she didn't have to have this conversation again to tell Patty.

"I'm so sorry. God. We're coming. Hang on."

Erin promised to do so and lowered the phone from her ear as she hung up. She didn't move the rest of the time as she waited, keeping her eyes on the phone hanging loosely in her hands. She didn't expect anyone to call; it just gave her something to look at so she didn't have to risk watching them transport the gurney or body bag in and out of the bedroom.

Time blurred again and her next awareness was of Abby and Patty arguing their way in to see her. Instantly the walls were gone and there was nothing but grief and emotion, but she had Abby and Patty around her, and they were much stronger and warmer shields, blocking the stark reality of the apartment as they held her. And they just stayed and cried and clung to one another until the worst was handled.

With statements taken and duties being handed over to medical examiners and various other related professionals, the authorities gave them some space to grieve together, giving them the contact information on who to communicate with to make the arrangements that came next.

Erin couldn't stay in the apartment, couldn't be anywhere near where it had happened. They went to Abby's, Erin letting herself be folded into the comfortable familiarity of her best friend's home. They made tea, the only thing any of them could stomach at that point, and just sat together in silence for a long time, the air too heavy, the absence too great.

"She was doing so well yesterday," Erin said at last, as if it made a difference. But she needed to process it out loud. "I thought…I don't know, maybe the doctors were wrong and things were starting to get better. Or at least weren't _as_ bad as they said."

"At least she was happy," Abby said, voice unusually dull. "She spent her last day having fun with us and doing what she loved, not being sick."

"Maybe she knew it was coming," Patty added, "and she put all her energy into making the most of that day."

Something in Patty's voice made Erin look up, a cold feeling in her stomach as she narrowed her eyes. "You knew."

Patty shook her head as Abby's eyes whipped accusingly toward her. "Don't look at me like that. I didn't know anything you didn't. I just suspected. Yesterday had that whole 'last hurrah' kind of feel to it. Like…she'd made up her mind or made peace with it or something."

Erin thought about that, slumping miserably in her chair. "I told her when the time came, it was okay to let go."

"But she seemed pretty good," Abby protested. "Why would she be ready to let go right now? Did something change?"

Erin swallowed. Keeping it quiet seemed so stupidly moot now. "The doctor said her kidneys were shutting down. She was going to have to go into some kind of assisted living where they could have her on dialysis and probably other stuff if the rest of her organs stopped working."

Understanding sank over the others. Patty whistled softly, raising her eyebrows. "Well, that'd do it."

"But it's possible someday someone might invent a way to fix that!" Erin protested, frustration igniting new energy in her. "I mean, maybe they could clone all new organs for her or invent a mobile dialysis unit you can wear or—"

"Erin," Abby said softly, her quiet tone cutting through Erin's increasing anger. "Holtz lived the entire last few decades on 'maybe' and nothing came through. Even if somehow they did fix her kidneys and whatever other organs, there's nothing that could stop what was happening to her brain. I think…she knew it wasn't going to get any better than this. Just worse."

"You know she wasn't gonna handle being stuck in a hospital," Patty agreed. "She knew she was gonna have to leave your home, and possibly leave you or at least not get to be with you as much, and I think that's where her line was."

Erin wanted to protest, to argue something else could have been done, but she knew that was the denial she had been clinging to for the last twenty years. She had lived on the persistent belief that if they just held on long enough, something would come along that would stop the damage and fix everything, and then everything could go back to normal. But she was wrong. No miracle cure had swept in at the last moment, and now it was over. And she had no idea what to do in the vacuum that lay before her.

"Hey, at least she ain't hurting anymore," Patty said, trying to lighten the mood slightly. She raised her mug, toasting with a nod toward the sky. "Hope you're feeling a lot better up there, Holtzy, and getting into a lot of trouble."

Abby seconded the toast, raising her mug to tap Patty's. Erin joined in as well, but her heart wasn't in it. She just tried to take comfort that Patty was right; although it wasn't the solution either of them wanted, Holtz wasn't suffering anymore.

OOO

After the initial torrent of pain and tears came the emptiness. Erin was somewhat grateful for it. She couldn't have sustained that level of anguish for long without breaking completely and the quiet cold was somber relief. She could process the necessary paperwork and arrangements that had to be made in the aftermath of Holtzmann's passing. The authorities were understanding about how difficult this was, but eventually things had to be decided and planned and she was the one who had final say. Patty and Abby handled as much as they could, though they weren't in much better shape than she was. Fortunately, Holtz had talked with all of them bluntly over the years and written out what she wanted done in advance, so it was mostly just confirming all of it on official documents so everything was carried out legally.

It took a certain amount of concern off them that Holtz had wanted cremation rather than burial. A funeral ceremony and burial at a cemetery would attract way more media and public attention than any of them could handle right now. An urn was much easier to transport than a casket and Erin was kind of glad not to have to see Holtz's body all decked out as if she was just sleeping. She had already spent far too long with her lifeless form before the EMTs got there and maybe she was a coward, but she couldn't do it again. Ashes were easier to deal with.

How they were going to carry out the elaborate requests for what Holtz had wanted done with her ashes was a whole other issue. Erin wasn't even sure if it was remotely legal to "sprinkle some in the food of my enemies" or if some of the 'enemies' she listed were even still alive.

Despite their discretion, word got out fast. Erin was avoiding all news and outside communications, but they received hundreds of e-mails and letters from fans or people they had helped and heard that scores of flowers, candles, and wreathes were left by the firehouse in Holtz's name. Patty did get Abby and Erin to come to a window at one point to see buildings across the city had lit up their windows in messages of love and condolences, a bittersweet echo of their gesture way back at the beginning. New York was grieving with them and it moved Erin's heart that so many people had cared about Holtzmann and wanted to pay their respects, but despite the apparent requests for some kind of statement from the team to give the public closure, they declined. For right now, their family needed privacy.

Erin couldn't return to their apartment. She had stayed with Abby in her guest room that first day and hadn't gone back since. It was easier than facing their empty home, especially the room where it had taken place. For a while, Erin wasn't sure she could go anywhere again that reminded her of Holtzmann, but even she knew that would ultimately be impossible.

With Abby as grief-stricken as she was, the atmosphere in the apartment was heavy and depressing. They mostly took care of each other, getting up, going about whatever household chores they could muster the energy to deal with like zombies, talking a bit, barely eating. Sometimes they tried to take their minds off it with television and movies, but after a lifetime together, everything reminded one or both of them of Holtzmann and it was a disaster.

Patty still had her husband and family to be with, but she spent as much of her day as possible at Abby's apartment. That little bit of distance and reprieve seemed to help her keep from being mired in her grief the way Erin and Abby were. She was the main motivation that stirred them from their depression, coming in like a breath of fresh air to urge them to eat something, get out of bed, open a window and let the breeze in. She breathed life into their existence, even if it was just enough to keep them all going for another day until they had to do it all again.

The city held a memorial for Holtzmann a little more than a week after her death. Ghostbusters from around the world chose to fly in to attend. The current New York team arranged a twenty-one proton wand salute that would have absolutely delighted Holtz with its unnecessary danger and spectacle. City officials spoke at length about their appreciation for the original team and the legacy they started, as if they hadn't resisted their presence and funding at every turn. To Erin's surprise and appreciation, though, Jennifer Lynch took time from her duties in the Senate to fly up from Washington and give a far more sincere and personal tribute to Holtzmann and the rest of the team than her colleagues had. Once again, Erin was grateful for their strange, but genuine dynamic.

Thankfully, the original Ghostbusters weren't required to give any eulogies or long-winded speeches. Abby chose to say a few words on all of their behalf and express their gratitude for this celebration of Holtz's life. She almost broke when she admitted how much it meant to see the people appreciate Holtzmann after she had been abandoned and rejected so many times in her life before finding the team. A number of foster programs and LGBT resources, who had figured out the source of their significant anonymous donations over the years, were among those gathered and the sight of rainbow flags at half-mast was too much. Erin squeezed her eyes shut against more tears, her hand closing around the 'screw you' necklace she now wore continuously, with Holtz's wedding band threaded on the chain. She had given a pair of Holtz's yellow glasses to both Abby and Patty so they all had something physical of hers to hold onto besides their weapons, but she had put the necklace on immediately after the coroner brought out Holtz's personal belongings and intended to never take it off.

After the public funeral, a more private ceremony was held, attended only by the original and current Ghostbusters. Per her request, part of Holtz's ashes were scattered in her lab at the firehouse (and a portion donated "in case anyone thinks of something cool to do with it"). Erin did the honors, breathing out a slow exhalation as she released the ashes around the machines that were, in their own way, Holtz's children. Watching the particles drift and float away amid the beeping and whirring of the lab, she accepted it as a gesture that, as she had told Holtzmann herself, it was okay to let go.

Surrounded by the people they had started his venture with, and the people carrying it on for a new generation, Erin knew one thing.

Holtz had been just shy of fifty-six years old. She hadn't gotten to beat the record she wanted to. But her legacy was still saving the world and she was definitely going to be remembered.


	7. Chapter 7

**For those who have stuck with me this long, hopefully it'll make it all worth it! Thank you so much for the kind comments so far. I'm sorry to rip your hearts out. I wanted to do respect to everyone who does live with a chronic, terminal illness by not just having a miracle easy cure come out of nowhere and instantly fix everything. It was an immensely difficult plot to write, since I tend to live the emotions of characters as I write them, but hopefully a meaningful one.**

 **We are past the worst now and as I promised, things will be happier from here out (if still not perfectly sunshine and rainbows. Well, maybe some rainbows.)**

* * *

After a few weeks, Erin decided she couldn't hide in Abby's apartment forever. She had to make some choices about what to do next. Abby assured her if she chose to sell the apartment she had shared with Holtzmann, she was welcome to move in permanently with Abby so neither of them had to be alone. Erin promised to think about it.

Both Abby and Patty had offered to go with her the first time she returned to her own apartment, but she politely declined. She wanted to do it herself, to have some time alone in the place that had been her home. _Their_ home.

Still, when she actually got there, she needed to stand at the door for a while, just breathing to hold off a panic attack. The memories of her last time there were still too fresh, the horror and pain washing through her anew. She briefly regretted not having the girls come with her. But Erin knew she wasn't a woman who ran from anything anymore. Not since she embraced being a Ghostbuster years ago. So she straightened her shoulders and made herself unlock the door.

She was a bit surprised the lights were still on. She supposed turning them off hadn't really been a priority for anyone who would have come and gone from the apartment in the last days it was inhabited. It was heartbreakingly still, devoid of the life that had filled it for so many years, yet not silent as Erin had expected. Music played from the entertainment center in the living room. She figured Patty had put something on to deal with the quiet when she came to pick up some of Erin's belongings to bring to Abby's apartment. Her heart twisted more when she realized it was one of Holtz's favorite playlists.

She didn't have the heart to turn it off, so she let the familiar music drift over her, an inappropriate contrast to the solemn purpose of her visit, as she set down her purse and walked around the apartment. Echoes from throughout the years played across her mind. Breakfasts at the small dining room table by the window. Movie nights snuggled up on the couch in the living room. Showering off slime from countless busts in the bathroom until the landlord sent them enough plumbing bills that they stuck to using the showers at the firehouse. Every room was saturated with the memories of a happy marriage, no matter how many shadows the later stages of Holtz's illness tried to darken it. She supposed that was something to be thankful for. But it was still never going to feel the same again.

Walking past the kitchen, she saw her favorite mug was sitting out on the counter with a bag of her preferred tea lying beside it. She tried to remember if she had started to get out tea before bed or if one of the girls had tried to offer it to her after Holtz…died. She wasn't sure. She left it there, untouched.

For a while, she puttered around, straightening things up in the living room and dining room, rearranging pillows on the couch and adjusting pictures on the wall. The door to Holtzmann's workshop was ajar, but she didn't go in. What she had to do with this trip would be hard enough.

After putting it off as long as she could, she finally braced herself and walked down the hall into the bedroom. The mattress was gone. She had requested it be thrown out, unable to bear the thought of keeping the mattress Holtzmann had died on. She had kept her pillow, though, to have something to hold while sleeping over at Abby's that still smelled like Holtz. The bedframe sat, skeletal, in the middle of the room, a stark emphasis that no one was living there anymore. A little chill made Erin shiver as she stared at it.

Sighing, Erin made her way into the room, which somehow felt smaller than it ever had before. She was pretty sure she was going to get rid of the bedframe too and start completely fresh, maybe even get a twin or double bed instead. It wasn't like she intended to have anyone else to share a bed with anymore. Either way, she didn't need it here right now, reminding her of a vacant ribcage. Making a decision to do something toward moving forward, she started pulling boxes out from under the bedframe so she could take it apart.

She had slid several boxes out, not even looking at what was in them, when she noticed a piece of machinery under the bed on what had been Holtz's side. Intrigued, she reached under and pulled it out to examine. It was clearly Holtz's handiwork, but not a device Erin had ever seen her build or use. Turning it over, curious, she noticed a cardboard tag attached to it with Holtz's rough handwriting scrawled on it. She turned the card so she could read it.

"For Z day."

Erin nearly dropped the machine in revulsion, but old habit kept her from being too rough with anything that might detonate. Still, she held it slightly away from her in horror, her other hand going to her mouth. Was this how Holtzmann had decided to 'let go'? Had she designed and held onto a weapon so when things got bad enough she could end it in a way that just looked like the progression of her disease?

"Oh god…" Erin's eyes clenched shut, tears starting to flow at the thought she could be holding the instrument of her wife's death.

A little breeze of air blew by her ear and she could swear she heard a voice whisper "No" right next to her. As she gasped slightly, the entire back of her hand that was holding the device went ice cold, like something frozen was resting on top of it. Something invisible with no weight or mass…

Her eyes widened as the hair prickled on the back of her neck. She knew that sensation, one that had become instinctively familiar over her years of work…

A thought dared to flicker at the back of her mind, one that had crossed all of their minds in the last few weeks but then been dismissed as wishful thinking. Making herself think rationally, Erin lifted the device to examine more closely.

No. Holtzmann would never discharge a weapon at herself while Erin was in range where it might hurt her as well, like, for example, lying beside her in bed. And now that she looked at the machine, she could make out more of the components. That looked like an electromagnetic generator, and that part was a structure that could amplify ambient PKE, and that one…

Her heart raced in her chest as full comprehension flowed over her. The cold had vanished off her hand, but she got an intense feeling of confirmation like a warmth inside her chest. Pushing away from the bedframe, she set the device on the floor in front of her, mind fluttering wildly. She was probably crazy. After everything, this was the time she had finally snapped. Ghost Girl come back in full force. This had to be her most advanced stage of denial yet and she knew it, but she had to know. She had to try.

Because if she was right…

She pushed the activation switch and the device powered up with a _thrum_. Erin's skin goosebumped at the energy it pumped out into the room. Her ears popped, but she barely noticed.

She knew she wasn't imagining it when she saw wisps of ectoplasm manifest and drift through the air, faint trails of blue mist. A few at first, then more as the PKE flowed through the room. And then…they seemed to condense, drawn together like a planet forming from cosmic dust, coalescing a few feet away…

Into an incredibly familiar form.

The ghost of Holtzmann beamed at Erin with a look of pride on her youthful face. "I knew you'd figure it out."

Hand pressing across her mouth, Erin made a noise that contained a mix of shock, joy, and pure visceral release.

Holtz's spectral eyes widened in alarm, then regret, holding up her hands. "Hey, it's okay. It's me. I'm realizing in retrospect that appearing as a ghost in your bedroom is _spectacularly_ insensitive, but—"

Erin was already on her feet, moving faster than she had in years, instinctively racing to wrap her arms around Holtzmann. But instead she found herself passing straight through her in a flash of cold air, stumbling into the wall behind her.

"Sorry," Holtz winced. "Still working on the corporeal thing."

Erin straightened up, leaning against the wall as she tried to adjust to the surreal normalcy of Holtzmann's behavior. Holtzmann's _ghost_. She pulled herself together, trying to get out an actual sentence. "Wh—? How—? You—?"

"Me, yep," Holtz nodded, smiling.

"You're you. Here. Ghost," Erin managed.

"That pretty much sums it up, yeah," Holtz grinned.

Erin closed her eyes, pressing her hands against her mouth as she drew a deep breath. She let it out slowly, opening her eyes again. Her heart leapt to see Holtz's ghost still standing there, not a hallucination, not a dream, as real as any ghost she had seen throughout their career. Her Holtzmann, young and healthy and _lucid_. God. Erin could feel tears starting to escape her eyes, resenting them for blurring her view of her wife after so long apart.

"Erin?" Holtz asked gently, worry replacing the smile on her face.

"It's just…" She swiped the tears away, clearing her vision as much as she could. "I lost you. I saw you dead and…and I've been grieving you for weeks. And now…you're here. And you're so beautiful and real and… I can't believe it. I'm not dreaming," she said, with an edge of a question.

"You're not dreaming." Holtzmann floated closer, catching Erin's eyes, voice steady and reassuring. "I'm here. A bit short on skin and bones, but still me. Here, check it out."

She closed her eyes, the crinkle that always formed between her eyebrows when she concentrated enough to make Erin's heart ache with familiarity. Then Holtzmann held out her hand, looking a bit more opaque than it had before.

Erin realized she was meant to take it and extended her own. Holtz's spirit's hand was cold, the same unearthly chill that Erin had felt so many times on the job, but their hands still fit together as they always had and Erin felt a new sob escape her throat.

"Really me." Holtz smiled.

Erin stared at their joined hands. "It really is." She looked up. "You're healthy again. I mean, you're _dead_ , but—"

"Yeah, kind of the ultimate in unhealthy, but definitely not sick anymore." Holtz wrinkled her nose, frowning at Erin. "Though honestly you're looking worse than me and I'm the dead one. When's the last time you slept?"

"I've been mourning you, you jerk," Erin retorted, but without malice.

"You should've come by sooner, saved yourself some sadness." Holtz's glowing eyes lit up further when she saw her pendant hanging on Erin's neck. She picked it up fondly, grinning. "You always did look good in my stuff."

"Wait, how long have you been here?" Erin asked, trying to keep up.

"About a week? I think? Time's weird like this. Hey." She picked up her own phantom version of her necklace. "We're jewelry twins."

The physical pendant dropped through her fingers as they faded, becoming more translucent again. Holtz's lip quirked in irritation, but she shrugged. "Oh well."

"What happened?" Erin had a sudden terror of Holtz fading from her view as abruptly as she had gotten her back. "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, just…still working out the bugs on staying corporeal for extended periods. It takes way more energy than I expected, even with all our calculations. I've been practicing, getting the hang of it while I had the place to myself. Took me hours to get your tea out for whenever you came back, but I did it. Just wound up pretty well drained for, like, a day after."

Erin was suddenly aware of the potential urgency of this situation. Her eyes shot back up to Holtz's. "How long do we have? To say goodbye? When do you have to leave again?"

Holtz smirked, eyes shining even more than their baseline glow. "Babe, that's a factor we never have to worry about again."

Erin frowned, then her eyes widened in fear. "Oh god, are you stuck here? Is the shielding on the apartment preventing you from crossing over?"

Holtz shook her head, waving that off. "Nah, that's actually not an issue. Dying's surprisingly easier than I thought it would be. I mean, the leaving-your-earthly-remains part. Always knew getting killed was pretty simple to arrange—"

"Holtz," Erin interrupted, stomach still turning at that line of conversation. "So you're not trapped, doomed to haunt our apartment?"

"Oh, I'm totally here to haunt you, but yeah, I'm here by choice. Crossed over, checked in—after checking out, you know—said a few 'Hi's to Dr. Gorin and a couple other folks I'd missed, then once I'd gotten the hang of things, got back here as fast as I could. Been hanging around waiting for _somebody_ to show up again," she said pointedly with feigned annoyance.

"You came back?" Erin gaped at her. "You were in the afterlife and you chose to come back?"

Holtz grinned. "Well, yeah. My favorite people are still here. I wasn't about to leave you guys if I had any say in it."

Erin wasn't even sure how to respond to that. Holtzmann had returned from the dead. For them. For her. And now sort of stood, sort of floated in the room they had lived and she had died in, as if nothing had changed. Looking just the way she had before that cursed genetic irregularity had started wearing away at her, from the disheveled curls piled atop her head to the mismatched socks showing above her boots.

"I had hoped…" Erin sniffled, shaking her head. "I dreamed maybe you'd come see us one last time. Maybe you'd get to say goodbye or show us you were okay, something like that. But I thought only people who died traumatically or with negative emotions stuck around."

"That's how it's supposed to work, yeah. But I had a suspicion and sure enough, I figured out kind of a loophole. Patty's the one who made me think of it." Holtz gestured vaguely in the air. "Remember? When we were talking about if there were any happy ghosts? And how I promised if I could come back, I would?"

Erin huffed a marveling laugh. "I do. I'm just amazed _you_ remember it."

"Oh yeah." Holtz gestured at her head, eyes exaggeratedly wide. "Turns out, even though my hardware was breaking down, all the software saved to the universal version of Cloud or something." She waved her hand in the empty space above her head. "So once I separated from my body—" She clapped her hands, making Erin jump. "Got everything back. Sorry if I'm talking really fast too. Apparently thoughts move a lot quicker without neurons slowing them down, so I feel like that time I mixed Mountain Dew and Red Bull together, but without the heart spasms."

Erin felt tears welling up again, hearing Holtz had her mind and abilities fully restored at last, but didn't have time because Holtz was already blazing forward, beckoning Erin to follow her back to the machine that had been under the bed.

"So, I made a plan back before my brain started really falling apart. We know the barrier between this world and the next is permeable, but it also has polarity. _And_ we know our emotional energy affects ectoplasmic material. So what I hypothesized is that positive emotions are able to cross the barrier easily, but usually in one direction."

She held up one hand to represent the barrier and pushed the fingers of her other hand through it, a demonstration made easier by her lack of corporeal restrictions. "Toward the other side. But negative emotions…"

She moved her fingers toward her "barrier" hand again, but this time had them bounce off. "Can't get across as easily and tend to rebound or just get stuck. The more negative the emotions, the more the energy of the barrier repels them. Hence, nasty ghosties who kept us in business for the last twenty-some years."

"That…has some merit," Erin nodded, pondering that potential.

"Also explains why you and Abby were able to survive nearly crossing the barrier alive," Holtz continued. "What you saw isn't the full afterlife. It was just this dead zone of trapped spirits who got stuck in that energy there. Call it Purgatory, Hell, whatever you want. But you guys were safe passing through because you both were in there out of love, so you were like this bubble of positive emotions floating through. And I figure Patty and I were able to pull you back because we loved you guys too, so it was just all kinds of positive energy making a channel back to the living world."

She shrugged. "Or maybe I'm just sentimental and we got damn lucky because honestly? That shouldn't have worked. Either way, based on that I decided to try and see if it was possible to intentionally create enough positive emotions to tether myself to this world even after I died. If so, it could make a bridge I could use to go back and forth through the barrier without getting stuck like the bad guys do."

Erin shook her head, putting her fingers to her temples as she tried to take in what she had just heard. "I'm sorry, did you just say you basically invented some kind of…spectral wormhole? Using love?"

"That's one way of describing it, yep." Holtz nodded, looking deservedly proud of herself.

"You invented a new understanding on spectral energy so you could come back to us," Erin said, staring at her.

Holtz scrunched up her nose. "Little bit."

Erin laughed, beyond being shocked at this point. "Well, honestly, if anybody could, it would be you."

"And I had very good motivation to do it," Holtz smiled, giving her a wink that Erin had missed with her very soul in recent years. "But even with all that, I still had to deal with the issue of manipulating matter while I'm here. That's where this little puppy came in."

Erin listened, fascinated, from a seat on the edge of the bedframe as Holtzmann laid out the design of what she had apparently dubbed the 'ghost projector'. To deal with the extreme energy demands of interacting with physical objects, since there was no convenient rip in the ley lines anymore, the device generated psychokinetic energy and pumped it out into the room. That way, Holtz didn't have to struggle to draw enough ambient energy from the area just to barely be able to move something, much less manifest a whole body.

A thought struck Erin. "Since this is designed to enhance ghostly abilities, is this going to attract or give power to any dangerous ghosts who might take advantage of it?"

"It shouldn't," Holtzmann said. "From what I've seen so far, the ionized shields on the apartment still work. I can get through 'cause I'm positively charged, but the negative ghosts are still repelled. It's part of why I figured the apartment would be the best place to try tethering to. Well, that and all the years of positive energy we've been pouring into this place together," she added with a smile. "Safest and best shot at forging a real connection. That's also why I had to make the transition before I lost my chance to."

The easy comfort froze in Erin's chest, realizing what Holtz meant by 'transition'. She had suspected, but still… "You knew," she said, looking at Holtz, knowing she shouldn't ruin this reunion, but still too raw over the last few weeks not feel stung and deceived. "You had this all planned out, you chose when to let go. And you didn't tell me."

Holtz practically shrank, slumping into herself as she looked down. "Yeah. Unfortunate detail of the plan."

"Unfortun—Holtz, you died!" All the pent up grief and anger was bubbling out of her at once now, the lingering ice around her heart sublimating to steaming pain. "I've been grieving you! We all have! And all this time you knew you were coming back? You didn't think that was something I deserved to know?"

"I wanted to tell you. I mean it," Holtz said, dropping to her knees in front of Erin, her hands cupping Erin's face. "I almost did a couple times, when you were really upset. But I didn't because I wasn't sure this was gonna work. It was completely untested and I could have been wrong. I didn't want you to be waiting for me to come back if I was actually stuck on the other side after all."

Erin's anger cooled as she thought about that. She tried to imagine the anguish of the last few weeks, but made more painful with an empty hope as she waited in vain for Holtz to appear. She knew herself. She would have spent the rest of her life waiting for that sign from Holtz, never able to let go and move on.

"You're right," she admitted grudgingly. "That would have been worse."

"I didn't want to hide it from you." Holtz was quiet and serious. "And I didn't want to let go either. But when we got that last diagnosis…" Her eyes darted to the floor awkwardly. "I wasn't sure if the tether would work if I was away from the apartment. And if I waited until I was in a hospital and my mind was gone… Then I might not get to come back. And it really would be goodbye. I had to let go while I was still me, while we were still together." Her eyes flicked up, then down again and she shrugged. "So I picked a day I felt okay enough and tried to pack in one last round of good stuff, partly to strengthen the bond one more time, but also…in case it didn't work, and that was the last day we had. Guess it worked, huh?"

"One last hurrah." Erin shook her head. "So Patty was right again."

Holtz's lips quirked up. "Well, that's not surprising. She's always been the smartest of all of us."

"Hm." Erin gave Holtz a small smile back, then realized something. "You're touching me."

Holtz's cold hands retreated from her face immediately, a hurt look on her face. "Right. Sorry."

"No," Erin assured her, apologetically. "I mean, you were able to touch me. I thought you said making yourself corporeal took a lot of effort."

Holtzmann frowned, looking down at her hands. "It did…"

Erin gently reached out and found she was able to hold Holtz's wrists, resting her hands in Erin's own. Holtz's blue palms were tinged with red, unlike the green energy she had always seen from other ghosts. "You really are positively ionized," she breathed, fascinated.

"Huh." Holtz flexed her hands, turning them over so she could twine them with Erin's. "Looks like PKE really does respond to positive emotions too."

Erin looked at Holtzmann, seeing the red tint appearing throughout her blue form now, their love manifested in quantum phenomena. And she was awestruck anew at her brilliant wife who had defied nature and physics itself to return to her, even as her brain and body turned against her. What could be more incredible than that?

Holtz's eyes glittered wickedly. "Hey, I wonder if my ectoplasm's red too!"

"You slime me, I'm putting you in a ghost trap," Erin warned flatly.

"All right." Holtz pouted. "Maybe I can surprise Abby. She might think it's funny."

Erin's eyes widened. "The others! We've got to tell them you're here. They'll be so thrilled."

"Whenever you want." Holtz shrugged, leaning back in the air. "Bring 'em over. I just can't go out. With the current range on the projector, I'm kind of limited to the general surroundings for now. And not a great idea taking it outside the apartment's shields, unless you feel like fighting a whooole lotta ghosts."

"Right. How long does the charge on the…ghost projector last? What kind of timeframe do we have?"

"Well, right now, only lasts a couple days before needing a recharge or risking overheating."

"Is it battery-powered?" Erin asked, picking it up to examine.

"Plutonium core."

Erin's eyes focused on her, suddenly more careful with the device. "You've been keeping a plutonium-based power cell under the bed?"

"First of all, it's no more dangerous than our proton packs and we've slept next to those plenty. Second, I didn't put any plutonium in until the night I intended to use it."

Erin pushed away the memory of that morning. "And where did you get plutonium?"

Holtz fidgeted sheepishly. "Jesse's lab."

"You stole plutonium from the firehouse? Oh my god, that's why you wanted to visit," Erin groaned.

"To be fair, my main reason was to see the place one last time. Getting the plutonium was just secondary. And also seeing if I could maybe tether myself there in case the apartment didn't work. Hey, did you put my ashes there like I asked?"

Erin pressed her hand to her eyes. "Tell me you didn't fake that episode there to get time alone to steal the plutonium."

"All real, I promise. Just made it easier to get a distraction so I could steal it."

"You're telling Jesse about this little plot," Erin said firmly. "They're probably freaked out they lost radioactive material on their watch!"

"Okay. We're gonna need to set up a standing order anyway to keep the projector recharged."

Reminded of the more immediate problem, Erin's heart ached at the thought of Holtz disappearing again now that she had her back. "So I only get to see you once in a while?"

"For now, but I've got ideas for how to stretch the power usage. I mean, it just lets me materialize easier. I'll still be here, even if you can't see me. Plus I stashed a few more of these babies in a box in the workshop so we can put one in every room of the apartment." She grinned. "Full-on ghost roommate."

Erin stared at the ghost of her wife, marveling how in just a matter of minutes, the tragedy of the last few years had turned to rejuvenated hope for the future. She had Holtzmann back, maybe less physically, but so much herself. "I missed you so much."

Holtz moved to sit beside her on the bedframe. "Missed you too. But never have to worry about that again. You're stuck with me."

"Mm." Unable to resist any longer, Erin leaned over, closing her eyes and hoping she wouldn't pass right through Holtz's body. To her grateful relief, her lips were met by a cold, but welcome pair that matched her kiss with the same mix of tenderness, longing, and joy.

Ultimately, Erin pushed back. "Okay, if we're going to tell Patty and Abby, we'd better do it before we get too carried away with that."

"True. We need a new mattress anyway. Not that I'd mind using the floor, but I don't want to hurt your old bones."

"Cute," Erin snorted, getting out her phone. "At least I still have my bones."

"Ouch! That's cold, Gilbert. Didn't your parents ever teach you not to disrespect the dead?"

"You're supposed to respect your elders too. Now come on and let's take a picture to send the girls."

"Hang on, let me pose like I'm sneaking up on you. I want to see if I can scare Abby."

As they worked out the creepiest way Holtz could think of to announce her return, Erin relished the joy that had been absent from their lives for so long. And she decided if this did turn out to be a dream or she was going crazy, she never wanted to be sane again.

* * *

 **(P.S. - I feel like I should note I absolutely do not advocate death as a "solution" to chronic illness. This is just a story set in a very specific universe where ghosts are a practical reality and even then, death is not to be taken lightly. I hope it doesn't come across that I'm suggesting anything insensitive or inappropriate of that sort.)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Whew! We've reached the end. It's been a very emotional journey and I thank everyone who has stuck with the story for seeing it through. Thank you for your kind comments and for reading it all, despite being such a painful topic. Hopefully this last chapter will give everyone the emotional closure befitting this subject matter. I hope too that I've handled it with sufficient respect and gravity.**

 **Sorry also for the delay. It's been a busy few weeks, but the chapter is more than twice as long as the others so maybe that will help make it worth the wait. From here, I'm definitely going to take a bit of a fluff break before tackling the next more tragic fic (like the last chapter of "Dum Vivimus, Vivamus", which I've been putting off because I dread the emotions I have to write for that). Got a couple lighter, short ficlets in progress, probably going to do something for Yatesbert week, then we'll see.**

 **But for now, the conclusion of this story.**

* * *

Erin was almost convinced she could hear Abby's excited scream from across the city before the phone even rang. After confirming the picture Erin had sent with Holtzmann's ghost was real, she was out the door before hanging up and finding the fastest way over to their apartment. Patty's response was only shortly after and nearly identical, though with a few more expletives.

When both arrived, there was a flurry of joyful squealing and as much hugging as Holtzmann's energy levels and control of her physical form allowed. Considering that the last time they had all been physically in this apartment, the tears had been due to grief, it was a blessing to be able to replace those memories with tears of happiness and reunion.

Abby wanted to know all about the physics of how Holtz had made her return work, practically salivating when she saw the ghost projector. Honestly it had been so many years since Holtz had invented anything, Erin completely empathized. Plus the concept of positive spectral ionization was so tantalizingly new.

"Well, I never followed the majority orientation in life," Holtz shrugged over their fascination. "Why should I start now?"

Patty, on the other hand, was exasperated that all they wanted to talk about was the technology when Holtzmann had seen the afterlife, for god's sake. Who cared about ionization and ectoplasm; did she meet Jesus and Frank Lloyd Wright or not?

To Erin's mild surprise, once the excitement of Holtz's return settled down, life fell into a strange sort of…normalcy. It turned out having Holtzmann around as a ghost was really not that different than having her there in the flesh. Okay, at first, her time being visible and corporeal was limited so that they didn't burn through power cores for her projectors too quickly, but it was strange how easily Erin got used to seeing things move around the apartment or hearing Holtz's disembodied voice without having her visibly there. It didn't make it less startling when Holtz would suddenly speak or appear without warning, but to be fair, she did that in life as well.

After a bit of discussion, they decided Abby would move into the guest bedroom since she was spending all her time over at the apartment anyway. Why pay two rents for a place she pretty much just went back to to sleep? They spent their days working on new inventions and experiments related to Holtzmann's breakthrough, so it made little difference just to bring Abby's stuff in and move their generic guest amenities out.

And so the apartment became a miniature version of the firehouse. Patty still lived with her husband, but came to hang out and try to get Holtzmann to ask questions of historical figures during her forays back to the Other Side. Abby and Erin were frequently surrounded by pages and whiteboards filled with new equations and diagrams, their minds alight with a new field of science after thinking they had a pretty solid understanding on spectral phenomena. Able to build again for the first time in years, Holtzmann rejoiced in the freedom of movement and practiced her ability to manipulate solid objects until she felt steady enough to start building new equipment to keep up with Abby and Erin's breakthroughs.

If anyone had told Erin a few years ago that in her sixties she would be once again researching and designing equipment to explore the paranormal with her wife and dearest friends, she would have dismissed them as overly optimistic. And yet here she was, her golden years feeling truly golden with renewed purpose and fun.

"Something about this ain't right," Patty commented one day as she came in, bringing a well-sealed container of plutonium courtesy of Jesse and the current Ghostbusters, who had been thrilled by the mostly-secret news of Holtz's reappearance. "You realize you're dead and you've still got me bringing you lunch?"

Holtz grinned and pecked Patty on the cheek as she took the bag of radioactive material. "Hey, quite literally, if you want to hang out with me, that's what you've gotta do these days."

"At least you don't have to pay for it anymore," Abby said, carrying in a grocery bag behind Patty. "But look what else I brought! I figured since we're all finally together and our ages are right, it's about time we started living our Golden Girls dreams." She grinned proudly, lifting a cheesecake out of the bag.

The girls whooped their approval as they settled around the dining room table and served up slices. As Abby passed one to Holtzmann, Patty frowned, cocking her head.

"Okay, I know we've seen ghosts shovel in food before, but can you actually eat like that?"

"Oh yeah." Holtz nodded, scooping up a forkful of cheesecake. "I mean, I don't really digest anything anymore and can't exactly get hungry or starve, but it still tastes good."

"And we still go through Pringles like there's no tomorrow," Erin confirmed. "I'm not quite sure how the whole sensory thing works, but it makes sense if she can see, hear, and feel things, taste and smell would work too."

"Gotcha," Patty nodded, watching Holtzmann swallow, grateful that Holtz was reasonably opaque at the moment. "Not that I really want to know while I'm eating, but if you don't digest stuff, what happens to the food when you, you know—"

"Disappear?" Holtz winced slightly. "Yeah, kind of just…falls out."

"You should've seen Erin's face the first time it happened," Abby laughed. "Right over the couch and everything."

"I don't think it was an overreaction," Erin retorted, defensively. "You know how hard ectoplasm is to get out of fabric by itself. Combine it with soup and it's…not pleasant."

"Kind of glad I'm not living here now." Patty shook her head. "Nothing in our life can be normal, huh?"

"If we were normal, we all never would've met," Holtz grinned. "And we definitely wouldn't be able to hang out like this now."

"Normal's for losers," Abby snorted.

Erin and Patty toasted their agreement.

"Hey, hang on. Got something to show you," Holtzmann said, setting down her fork and vanishing away.

Erin winced as a wet splat sounded from the floor under where her wife had just been.

"We'd _just_ talked about it," Abby sighed, peering down at the slimy mess.

"Usually she's getting pretty good about planning where she does that," Erin said, getting up to get paper towel. "But when she's excited…you know her."

Patty pushed away her plate. "Guess I'm done with mine now."

"It's not that bad, just cheesecake and ectoplasm," Erin said, grateful at least this time it had happened on linoleum. "I've cleaned up far worse over the years."

She felt the slight drop in mood at the table, realizing she hadn't referenced Holtzmann's illness, even indirectly, in a long time.

"Real truth, how you doing with this whole thing?" Patty asked softly.

"I'm grateful, honestly. I mean it's not exactly anybody's first choice for how things would turn out, but every minute we have now is more than we should have gotten. She came back from the dead. I'm not going to complain about a few messes or things being a little weird. Well, weirder."

"Check it out," Holtz said, appearing suddenly from the workshop down the hall. She paused, grimacing guiltily when she saw Erin cleaning up. "Oh. My bad."

"It's all right." Erin threw the last paper towel in the trash and washed her hands. "What were you so excited about?"

"Oh!" Holtz brightened up again, twirling something between her hands. "Been working up a little something with Dr. Gorin. Should make our lives a bit easier."

"Dr. Gorin who's also dead?" Patty asked.

"Yep. She's got a pretty bitchin' lab set-up in the afterlife. I've had her helping me out with an idea," she continued, though Erin kind of wanted to go back to that last revelation about how things worked Beyond. "Ladies, may I present the portable ghost projector!"

She plopped a small device about the size of a cell phone on the table and leaned back proudly to let them look. Erin and the others leaned in, intrigued.

"That's a ghost projector?" Abby asked.

"A low-key, stealth version, yep. Dr. Gorin helped me refine the frequencies it works on to provide a more selective output. Range is limited down to about a five-foot radius around the carrier, reducing the risk of attracting unwanted ghostly party crashers. Spectrum's focused on mostly positive ionization to discourage riffraff from checking it out, though I still wouldn't try it in a location known to be haunted by something other than me. Should fit in a pocket, purse, or just be handheld."

"Portable, meaning it'll let you leave the apartment?" Erin extrapolated.

Holtzmann grinned, kicking back on one of the chairs. "That's the plan. It's still a prototype, very early design, so might need to work out some kinks, but should let me spread my wings a bit. Not that I don't love being here, but even ghosts get a little stir-crazy," she assured Erin, widening her eyes expressively.

"Well, we don't want that," Abby agreed.

"Holtz, this is fantastic!" Erin enthused.

"What kind of kinks are we talking about?" Patty asked bluntly.

"More in the 'pathetic battery life' range than the 'nuclear fireball in your pocket' one," Holtz shrugged. "Couldn't fit enough shielding to put a plutonium core in it, so it's got to use regular lithium-ion cells. So even with it I probably can't actually _appear_ much outside the apartment, since even interacting with physical objects can drain a battery like that—" She snapped her fingers. "—but there's always room for improvement. Oh, and I'll need something physical I'm linked to, besides your lovely persons, but as long as you carry something of mine with you, I can tag along." She toyed with her Screw U pendant on Erin's neck as an example.

"I've gotta hand it to you, Holtz, being dead hasn't slowed you down a bit," Abby said, shaking her head.

"Thank you." Holtz gave a mini bow and flourished salute as she settled onto the chair beside Erin.

"Well, now that you're mobile again, you know what that means?" Patty pointed to Holtzmann. "Monthly poetry slam night's back on."

"Yes!" Holtz raised her arms victoriously. "And I don't have to pay for admission anymore!"

"Girl, how often did you actually pay for your own cover?"

"Fair enough. But I like to think I made up for it in cool new toys." She leaned over, picking up Erin's fork and stealing a bite of her cheesecake.

"Hey!" Erin protested.

"What? I lost mine."

"And whose fault is that? Just because you didn't want to walk a few feet down the hallway…"

But the rest of her protest was cut off with a chilly, strawberry-flavored kiss, and with the sunny mood around the table, she found she didn't have it in her to even pretend to be annoyed.

OOO

Holtzmann's newfound ability to commute expanded their world again. Admittedly, Erin had been spending far too much time in the apartment lately, just wanting to be with Holtz. But now that she could accompany them on ventures out, even if invisibly, they were able to have subtle dates again. Whether it was strolls through Central Park or brunch in cafes, they experimented with how far they could push the battery life of Holtz's mobile projector. Even if she couldn't see her wife at her side, just knowing she was there, feeling their hands intertwined, and hearing Holtz's voice nearby made her peaceful.

Since they found it was easier for Holtzmann to manipulate electrical objects than move things physically, they rigged up a modified app on their phones so Holtz could essentially text them just by adjusting the energy frequencies around the phone. That way she could communicate with them in public without having to freak out anyone in hearing distance. Not that that had particularly bothered Erin anyway. She had stopped caring if anyone thought she was talking to herself. She had been considered every variation on crazy already. Who cared if people thought she was senile in her old age, unable to accept the loss of her wife? She had everything she needed and every time one of Holtz's messages appeared on her screen, she beamed.

When they took Holtz to the firehouse to visit the current team, they discovered that Holtz had in fact formed enough of an emotional bond to the place that she could properly appear in her old lab without needing to strain the mobile projector. Since the building was shielded like their apartments, they made arrangements to set up permanent ghost projectors there too in case Jesse and Holtzmann wanted to work together on something. Holtzmann's joy at being able to haunt her lab and mess with the new team brought a contagious energy to the slightly-subdued building.

Being able to take Holtz with them to visit Senator Lynch's Washington office for the anniversary of their team's foundation was another delight. As Jennifer tried to have a serious conversation with the team and inquire about their new research, Holtzmann relished making her presence known by knocking over an occasional knick-knack and whispering in the ears of her staff and security to freak them out. Ultimately, she went easy on Jennifer and let the team explain, since, at the end of the day, the woman had been supportive in her own way. And although Jennifer ostensibly seemed exasperated and resigned to Holtzmann's mischief, Erin had caught the genuine surprise and emotion on her face when Holtz spent enough energy to materialize, even if it was hidden quickly.

Overall, life was good and peaceful. Other than the time Erin walked in on Abby sucking Holtzmann into a ghost trap "to see if it worked on her". She was assured it was a consensual experiment and it had worked out all right—Holtz came out of it excited with a bunch of new ideas for what to do with the inside of the containment unit—but Erin begged them not to do things like that again, unless they _wanted_ to give her a heart attack.

Holtzmann even took it well when Erin froze reading her e-mails one day, prompting Holtz and Abby to ask what was wrong.

"That experimental research team found a treatment for Holtz's condition," she told them, voice more neutral than she would have expected. "Full genetic excision."

There was a quiet moment, no one voicing the grim sense of 'too late' hovering between them.

Then Holtz nodded. "Good. I'm glad for the others who won't have to go through that."

And she resumed her work with no further mood of self-pity or resentment. It was what it was, they had found their own way of handling it, and that was that. No reason to dwell on other ways things could have gone. Erin and Abby accepted her lead and let go, focusing instead on the good things they had going for them now.

OOO

The only shadow falling over Erin was the increasing acknowledgment of how much older she was getting. When Holtzmann was alive, Erin hadn't had time to notice her own aging so much. Holtz's health had been her entire focus. But now, with Holtz not just well, but back to her youthful self, it only drove home how much the years were wearing on Erin's own body.

She became extra aware of her gray hair and every wrinkle. She felt every ache more keenly, noticed exactly how much sooner she and the others got tired when they used to be able to stay up most of the night working. She watched Holtz's boundless energy with a bittersweet longing, trying to remember what it felt like to be able to stand or dance around for hours or even just jump up and jog to another room when you needed something.

And as much as she hated to admit it, it began to twinge at her self-esteem. Holtz was young and beautiful and vivacious. She had no limitations anymore. How much longer would she be content to hang around with Erin all day? She could be exploring whatever lay beyond the barrier in the Next World, but she was choosing to spend her afterlife with a woman who couldn't even carry a proton pack anymore without grinding back pain.

When Holtzmann caught on to her mood and Erin finally admitted her insecurities to her, Holtz would have none of it.

"Erin, you are just as gorgeous, brilliant, and sexy as the day I met you. You've gotta know that."

Erin snorted slightly, avoiding Holtz's eyes. "You don't have to pity me and say stuff like that."

"Baby, listen to me, total seriousness." Holtzmann leaned on the table in front of Erin, gesturing for her to look at her. "You want the truth? Fine. You're not the same as the day I met you."

Erin tried to look down, but Holtz's cold fingers caught her chin.

"You are so much better. Everything over the last twenty years? Just made everything about you cooler. You haven't lost a thing, and I thought I'd maxxed out the love scale, but every day you keep pushing it to new levels. You are frickin' _awesome_ , Erin."

Erin felt the corner of her lips quirk up, but still squirmed slightly. "Even old and gray and too tired to do most of what I used to do?"

Holtzmann cocked her head, looking at Erin intensely. "Did you love me less when I was sick and breaking down and forgetting everything?"

"Of course not!" Erin reached out to grip her hand to convey how strongly she meant that. "Never!"

"Then why do you think I'd stop loving you?"

Erin didn't have an answer for that, her mouth working to no avail.

Holtzmann drifted through the table and straddled Erin's lap, draping her arms around Erin's neck. "You've got me, babe. Body and soul. Well, just soul now, but I love both of yours still. Ever and always."

Erin sighed gently, smiling and wrapping her arms around Holtz's waist. "I love you too. Always have and always will."

They were lost in kissing each other when Abby walked past them to the refrigerator. "Guys, can you at least put a sock on the door or something? Holtz is making the TV fritz in the living room too."

Erin flicked her a casual middle finger without interrupting their moment, smiling slightly at the amused snort she got in return, before focusing entirely back on Holtzmann. Maybe she wasn't that old after all.

OOO

The next few years passed in a happy blur, a familiar pattern of research, celebrations, inventing, and even publishing probably the first research papers with a co-author who entirely contributed posthumously.

They were keeping so busy, in fact, that it took a longer time than it should have for Erin and the others to realize her exhaustion, aches, and lingering cough might be more than just typical effects of her age. Patty finally talked her into setting up a doctor's appointment and Abby went with her.

The doctor listened, made notes, took some bloodwork and tissue samples, and assured her they would let her know when the results came back from the lab. When Erin got a call a couple weeks later asking her to come back in instead of giving a pat 'all good', she knew it was bad.

Holtzmann wanted to go with her terribly, but they just didn't trust using the mobile ghost projector in a place where as many ghosts might linger as a medical building. Erin assured her she would have Abby and Patty with her and suggested she pop over to the firehouse to work with Jesse for a bit or even duck back to the Other Side to save energy until Erin got back.

Erin was glad she had her two other best friends with her. Despite, or perhaps because of her long history with medical facilities, the waiting and exam rooms made her nervous. This time there was no physical exam; they were just led back to an office to meet with the doctor in privacy.

The suspicion had been lingering in her mind since Patty called her out on her symptoms, but it was another thing to actually hear words like "cancer", "metastasized", and "treatment options" come out of a doctor's mouth. She was quiet and oddly calm throughout the rest of the meeting, in contrast to Abby and Patty's shock and distress. Still, Erin realized she was gripping Abby's hand tight enough that her ring left an imprint in Erin's palm.

As they thanked the doctor, scheduled a follow-up appointment to meet a specialist, and headed toward the elevator, Erin was lost in thought. Her mind kept flashing back to the last years of Holtzmann's life, the countless hours spent in waiting rooms and enduring invasive medical exams and waiting for the results and, god, she didn't want to do that again. And Holtz… She had to tell Holtz the news.

When Erin lingered after stepping out of the elevator, Patty and Abby stopped, looking back.

"Erin?" Abby asked.

"What if I don't want to do the treatment?" she said, the words coming out of her mouth almost as they formed in her mind.

The others looked surprised. "You want to try something else instead?" Patty asked. "'Cause I know a guy who's big on holistic healing and he'd probably—"

"No." Erin closed her eyes, but felt a strange relief saying the words. "What if…I don't want to do… _any_ treatment?"

It was silent for a second and Erin dared open her eyes to see their reaction. She saw understanding blooming in Patty's eyes, but Abby was looking at her like she had just started dripping ectoplasm from her nose.

"What? You mean like just give up?" she demanded. "Let the cancer win?"

"No, I just..." Erin leaned back against a wall, pressing her hands to her face. "If I do the chemo and everything else, it might buy me a few more years than I could have otherwise, but I'll spend most of them miserable and sick. And I could even catch something and die sooner because my immune system's messed up. For, at best, a couple more years? That I probably won't even be able to enjoy? And the hospitals! It'll be so many more hospitals and I already did all of that with Holtz, I can't do it again, I _can't_. And she couldn't even be with me! Maybe a little, but I'd be away from the apartment so much, and I don't _want_ to die, but I just—"

"Hey, hey, we get it," Patty said, stepping forward to enfold her in a warm hug. "It's okay."

Erin let herself melt into the much needed comfort. "I'm sorry. I'm not ready to leave, it's just…"

"A lot to take on, I know." Patty rubbed her back. "Probably doesn't help that your other half's already on the Other Side."

Erin pulled back, her hand going to her mouth. "Oh my god. It sounds so selfish, right? I mean, I've got you guys and I love you and—"

"It's okay." Abby, who had been fairly quiet, came over to wrap her in a tight hug too. Erin could hear how rough her voice was. "We understand. I don't want to lose you, but I couldn't stand seeing you suffer either, so…if that's what you want to do, we'll support you."

"I'm sorry," Erin whispered, tearing up into Abby's hair. "I said I was never going to leave you again."

"Hey, you're not," Abby assured her, trying to sound brighter. "I mean, Holtz's been dead for years now and she's still hanging around." She pushed back, pointing a finger at Erin. "But you had better haunt me, you got it? It's the least you can do."

Erin laughed, wiping her eyes. "I promise. I'm sure Holtz can show me how to do it." Her eyes focused as the thought struck her. "Do you know how much easier some of our tests are going to be when I can experience them directly?"

Abby's eyes gleamed too. "With both you and Holtz operating on the spectral plane, we'll have an even number of researchers on both sides! That's gonna open up so many more opportunities for experiments! I wonder if we can put any kind of sensor or something on you that'd cross over when you go?"

"I don't know y'all," Patty said, shaking her head as she walked away.

"I mean, our power consumption rates are going to double," Erin continued, mind racing with ideas.

"That's assuming the energy drain'd be additive. We're not necessarily limited by traditional thermodynamic models at this point."

"Hey, Addams Family!" Patty yelled from the door. "How 'bout we have this morbid-ass conversation at home where you won't freak out the sick people?"

"I'm just saying, if we can measure exactly what happens when someone crosses the barrier, it'd clear up so many things," Abby continued, putting an arm around Erin's waist as they walked to the door. "You know how hard it is to get human volunteers for stuff like this…"

OOO

The mood on the ride home was much lighter and more energetic than it had been stepping out of the doctor's office. Erin and Abby scribbled notes and equations about spectral transitions back and forth on a little notepad from Erin's purse as Patty just put in her headphones and turned up the music to tune them out.

As they approached the door to the apartment, though, Erin's enthusiasm faded as she remembered she still had to break the news to Holtz about her diagnosis. And she had no idea how Holtz was going to take it.

"We're home!" Abby called as they walked in.

Erin's heart warmed at the now familiar sight of a device building itself on the coffee table in front of the TV, tools bobbing in the air as if they were levitating. Holtzmann didn't waste energy manifesting when no one else was around, but now the tools settled to the table, the TV muted, and the ghost projector flipped on and powered up. The APX shift that once had warned them of danger now brought a smile to Erin's lips as her wife materialized on the couch.

"How'd it go?" she asked, floating over to Erin. "Everything okay?"

"I'm gonna let y'all talk," Patty said, reaching for the door to leave. "Gotta get back home, but call me later if you want, all right?"

"And I'll be in my room," Abby agreed, slipping past Holtzmann. "Lots of ideas to jot down before I forget them."

As they left, Holtz stared at Erin, the spectral glow making her eyes even more intense than they had been in life. "Er, what is it?"

Erin sighed, deciding to just be out with it. "It's cancer."

Holtz looked stricken. Erin felt the air chill and an energy pulse made the image on TV pixilate for a moment with the effects of Holtz's emotions.

"I mean, it's not really a surprise," Erin added, trying to be casual about it. "They say if you live long enough, everyone gets it and honestly I've been lucky so far—"

"Did I cause it?"

The words startled Erin. She realized Holtzmann wasn't just shocked, she looked scared and miserable, shrinking into herself. "What? What are you—?"

"The radiation. Our gear. My projectors…"

Realization settled over her. "Oh, sweetie, no."

"If I made you sick, if I'm poisoning you, I'll go," Holtzmann said, voice shaky and a bit panicky, but firm. "We can shut everything down. It's not worth it."

"No!" Erin reached out to catch Holtz's arm. Her hand passed through at first, testament to Holtz's distraction and negative mental state, but then it solidified under her touch as Holtzmann redirected energy to accept the contact. Erin squeezed the phantom limb, drawing Holtz closer to her.

"Holtz, I'm getting older. These things happen. There's no way of knowing what caused the initial mutation and even if they could, I don't care. I wouldn't trade one day of our work or our life together to buy a few more years—"

"Decades," Holtz muttered.

"We don't know that," Erin continued. "There are no guarantees. We live with what we have. Day by day, right?"

It was an old promise, from the very earliest days of their relationship with the acknowledgment of Holtzmann's health issues, but today it failed to lift Holtz's spirits. Erin suspected it was going to take a long time of repeated reassurances to get her to let go of her self-inflicted guilt and blame.

"Yeah, I guess so," Holtz sighed.

"Good," Erin straightened up, squeezing her arm one more time.

"Right." Holtzmann nodded, flicking her spectral glasses over her eyes in pure old habit as she got into problem-solving mode. "We'll figure it out. It's not like we're strangers to doctors' appointments, huh?"

"About that…" Erin swallowed nervously, licking her lips. "I was actually, kind of, thinking about…not doing the treatment."

The pressure wave that boomed through the living room made the tools spark and shake on the table and shut off the TV.

Holtzmann's eyes were sharp and chilling. "No."

Erin held up her hands. "Holtz, listen—"

"No, Erin. I know I make being dead look awesome, but that doesn't mean you should do it too."

"It's okay—"

"No!" Holtzmann looked near a panic now, shaking her head vehemently. "I'm not okay with you killing yourself, Erin!"

"I'm not." Erin caught her arms, grateful Holtz was still solid enough to make contact with. "I promise, that's not what I'm talking about doing. But there's no curing mine. It's already spreading and the main affected areas are inoperable. The only options are intensive chemotherapy and it's only to buy time, not to get better. We both know how that goes, Holtz, and I can't do it again. I'm not going to make us both miserable just to delay the inevitable and live on false hope. I'm not quitting, just choosing my own terms. You have to understand that."

Holtzmann scratched at the back of her head, eyes squeezed shut as she pulled her emotions under a resigned sort of control. "Yeah. Of all people, I get that."

Erin smiled slightly. "And it's not immediate. We've still got years ahead of us."

Holtz huffed a rueful laugh. "I know life's full of repeating patterns, but this one sucks."

"It does." Erin pulled Holtzmann into a hug. The icy cold warmed faintly, positive ionization threading through Holtz's form as her grief eased slightly.

"Just…promise me, if you need to make a call, you don't take it lightly. And if you have any say, don't go without telling me. I know, hypocrite coming from me, but I've gotta teach you some stuff about how I did this haunting thing."

"I will. I promise." Erin leaned back to look Holtz in the eye. "I'm not planning to do anything. I'm not trying to speed anything up, just…not slow it down in painful ways. I want to keep living and working with you guys until I can't. That's it."

Holtzmann pursed her lips, but nodded. "'Kay. I can work with that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I guess now I get to do something I wasn't able to before."

Erin frowned. "What's that?"

Holtz rested her arms on Erin's shoulders. "You were there for me all those years. Now it's my turn to take care of you."

And Erin's heart melted, tears brimming in her eyes as she counted her blessings anew that she hadn't been fated to spend her golden years alone. She leaned in to kiss Holtz. "I love you."

"Love you too, babe. Past 'death do us part'." Her features tinged red with positive energy, Holtzmann slipped her hands down Erin's arms to settle on her hips. "Hey, what do you say we take a break and go put the 'spice' in hospice?"

"Oh my god." Erin pushed her back, but was laughing. "That is _so_ wrong, Holtz."

"Hey, I'm dead, not lifeless," Holtz smirked, not letting go.

"Honestly, yes, I'm completely up for that, just let me tell Abby everything's okay and not to come looking for us for a while."

"Fiiiine," Holtz groaned, letting herself pass through Erin's arms to start drifting to the bedroom. "But don't keep me waiting too long. I might fade away out of longing," she said, dematerializing as she spoke.

Erin rolled her eyes affectionately, then headed to Abby's room. She knocked on the door, feeling like a college student giving her dorm mate a heads-up to stay out for a while. If she had had occasion to do that in college…

"Come in."

Erin leaned in the doorframe. "Hey, we're—"

"I heard enough to get the gist," Abby said, not even looking up from her computer as she waved Erin away. "Go raise the dead."

Erin scrunched her face apologetically. "We'll try to keep it down."

"I've got my headphones. I just….don't even want to know how you guys do that. Logistically."

"You kind of do, don't you?" Erin asked sympathetically.

"I do," Abby sighed, setting down the screen. "Is that weird? I mean, if it was anybody other than you guys, I'd want to get a bunch of sensors in there and—"

"Ectoplasm." Holtz's disembodied voice said before she appeared cross-legged on the foot of Abby's bed. "That slime's got a lotta uses."

"Holtzmann!" Erin snapped, flushing.

"Let's just say I don't think she hates the stuff anymore," Holtz continued in a conspiratorial sotto voce to Abby.

"Oh my god," Erin murmured.

"Holtz, what did I say about sneaking around while you're incorporeal?" Abby scolded.

Holtzmann wrinkled her nose, thinking. "That if you could do it you've got, like, ten places you'd want to go _today_?"

"And that _you're_ not allowed to do it in my room."

"All right… See you in a minute, babe." She winked at Erin and vanished. "Love you, Abby!"

"You know, it's not really fair she has more energy as a ghost than when she was alive," Erin commented.

"Well, go burn some of that off so we can get work done. I've got some ideas I need your input on. And Erin?" She looked up, face sincere. "If you want to talk or get stupid drunk or anything, you know I'm here for you."

Erin smiled, heart warming again. "Thanks. You too."

"It's gonna be okay."

"I know."

"Just…go have sex and try not to think about it."

"Okay. Will do."

As she closed the door behind her and headed down to the bedroom where her wife waited, Erin knew she wanted to put off anything else disrupting their happy, if weird, life here as long as possible.

OOO

As it turned out, they had years left. Erin did take the doctor's advice and started taking it a bit easier. She didn't actually step down; there was certainly plenty she could do without physically straining herself, but Patty was more than happy to sit back and chat with her on the couch while Abby and Holtz worked away on a project. She didn't stay up as late, letting herself nap when she felt the need to, and let herself be taken care of.

And Holtz was true to her word, doting on Erin's every need. With ample practice managing physical objects, she could reliably prepare food for Erin (well, as much as she ever had been able to), tuck her in under a blanket, and retrieve her medicines for her when it was time. Abby and Patty helped too, of course, but Holtz was determined to be the main one to care for her.

Unfortunately, things can only be postponed so long before the inevitable stakes its claim. Breathing had become more labored over the past few months for Erin, courtesy of the mass taking up space in her pleural cavity. Then one afternoon, after lying down from a dizzy spell, Erin tried to get up from the couch, felt a twinging tightness in her chest, and passed out.

She woke up gradually, the beeping of monitors and smell of antiseptic letting her know she was in a hospital room before she even opened her eyes.

She could hear Abby's voice not far away and knew she had been crying, or maybe still was.

"I just…I thought I was ready, that I'd made peace with it, but now…"

"I know, baby," Patty's voice said soothingly, but with the same wetness. "There's nothing that can really prepare you."

"It was hard enough with Holtz. But Erin… It's _Erin_. I already lost her once. I didn't want to do it again."

"You're not going to. Just remember tha—Hey, speaking of. Look who's up."

Erin was dragging her eyelids open, unsurprised her eyes focused to see Abby right at her side.

Abby gently picked up Erin's hand between her own. "Erin?"

"Hey," Erin managed, voice rough and dry. She realized there was an oxygen cannula on her face, blowing air into her nostrils to help her lungs.

Patty squeezed Erin's leg under the thin bedsheet. "How you feeling?"

"Tired. Chest hurts." Erin was starting to feel a little more awake, but still felt the haze and slight nausea of pain medication. "Got pretty bad, huh?

"Yeah, it's not good," Abby agreed softly.

"Doc said the tumor on your lung's starting to press on your heart," Patty explained, making an effort to sound steady, though the strain was noticeable. "Pinching some of the blood vessels there, which is why you had your episode at home."

 _Home._ Oh god, Holtz had to be so scared. Erin had dreaded something like this happening, taking her away from home and Holtzmann.

She swallowed. "They say how long I have to be here?"

Abby exchanged a look with Patty and Erin understood what they had been talking about as she woke up.

"There's not much they can do, Erin," Abby said. "They're helping with the little stuff, but they can't do surgery. Not in your state and with the other tumors."

"Ah." So, this was it. Erin squeezed her eyes shut, dehydrated enough the tears she felt burning her eyes not able to actually form. "Holtz. You'll let her know? Make sure she's okay?"

Patty smiled bittersweetly. "Now that we can help you with."

Erin looked up to see Abby lifting a device out of her bag. It looked like a ghost projector, but somewhere between the permanent emitters at home and the mobile versions. "Is that—?"

"Holtz had a breakthrough on the mobile projector. It's an untested prototype, but it should let her be able to show up here without attracting other ghosts that might be stuck hanging around."

Erin perked up, pushing herself slightly further up against the pillows, though even that minor strain made her chest ache and her vision go spotty. She relaxed back against the mattress, but her eyes focused on the machine as Abby switched it on.

Almost instantly, ectoplasmic mist pulled together to form Holtzmann's ghost, floating right beside the bed, arms wrapped around herself.

"Wow, that was quick," Abby commented.

"I was already here," Holtz answered shortly. She reached out to rub Erin's arm. "I heard. It's gonna be okay, babe."

Erin smiled, relieved to have her whole family there with her after all. "Still coming up with new toys to surprise us, huh?"

Holtzmann smirked back, even if it was subdued. "What else am I gonna do with my time?"

Erin stroked a finger against her arm, then squeezed Abby's hand, reaching for Patty's too. "Thank you. All of you."

"Like she said, it's gonna be okay, hon," Patty said. "Battery life's still not great on that projector thing, so how about Abby and I give you two some time while we go get something to eat?"

"'Kay. See you guys in a bit." Erin waved weakly as they headed out.

Holtzmann perched in a chair beside the bed, holding Erin's hand in hers. The cold felt good against Erin's skin. She felt a bit fuzzy and hot, either from the meds or a fever she wasn't sure.

She and Holtz smiled ruefully at each other. "Guess I'm not coming home for a while, huh?" Erin said.

Holtz shrugged, a bit nonchalantly. "We'll see. How you feeling?"

"Better with you here. Started to worry I wouldn't get to see you again."

"Never a risk."

Erin's brow creased. "If…it happens here, at the hospital, will I still be able to haunt the apartment?"

"Shouldn't be a problem." Holtz settled slumped sideways in the chair, fingers still entwined with Erin's. "You guys have been doing all the tethering practices with me. Plus we've put a lot of good positive memories into that place."

"Got that right." Erin's smile faded, eyes flicking to the projector. "How long do we have with that?"

"An hour or so, maybe. Still kind of experimenting with it. Abby and Patty brought refills, though."

Erin's eyes widened slightly. "Not plutonium."

"Nah, just good old fashioned radium." Holtz's grin betrayed her tease. "I'm kidding. It runs on suped up a couple camera batteries. Bought a bit more time."

It seemed like that was what they had been doing their whole relationship, Erin mused. Just trying to buy a bit more time together. "I'm sorry."

Holtz frowned at her. "What for?"

"Just…putting you through this. Not doing the treatment to see if it helped…"

"Cut it out." Holtzmann clenched her fingers to emphasize her command. "I don't want to waste our time here with blame or sadness, especially toward yourself. So, what kind of Jell-O do you think they have in the cafeteria? 'Cause if it's the red kind I'm thinking about putting some ectoplasm in the container when you're done and seeing if we can get Patty to eat it."

Erin laughed. "You're awfully brave when you know she can't actually get back at you."

"I don't know, she confiscated my soldering iron last time I messed with her, knowing I couldn't get it back on my own. Maybe I'll try it on Abby instead."

"Okay. Just remember she's still got that ghost trap lying around."

The conversation fell into an easy rhythm, comfortable enough that Erin almost forgot they weren't in their own bed at home. Everything was so calm and her body so tired Erin felt herself beginning to drift off, her eyes dragging closed. She wasn't sure at what point in the conversation she actually fell asleep or how long she was out, but she jerked slightly when she did awaken.

Holtzmann was still sitting in the chair, but was leaning forward now, looking at her intently. "Hey. How you feeling?"

"Okay," Erin yawned. "Doing pretty well, actually." That was a bit of an understatement. The sleep had apparently done her some good, as the pain, fogginess, and nausea had faded during her nap.

Then she felt bad, realizing that nap had wasted some of the precious, limited time they had before the projector's power ran out. Glancing down to check the screen of the device in a rush of panic, she frowned.

The projector was completely drained and deactivated.

And yet she could still see Holtzmann.

In full color.

Erin stared at her as the pieces came together. Holtzmann was grinning wide enough to showcase her dimples now. "Hi."

"Wha—? That was _it_?" Erin sputtered.

"Told you it wasn't so bad." Holtzmann stood up and reached out, holding her hand out to Erin.

Erin stared at it, the skin pink and solid-looking again. Almost scared to dare, Erin carefully raised her own hand, which looked remarkably less wrinkled than it had moments before, and slid her hand into Holtzmann's.

And for the first time in years, Erin could truly feel it, as warm and familiar as it had been throughout their lives.

As Holtz helped her sit up, Erin could feel the pain and age and weariness remain in the bed behind her, like standing up out of a cooling bath. Daring a look back, she was a bit surprised that the aged, frail body that had been her home for so long seemed foreign and emotionally distant from her now. Especially compared to the weightless, vibrant form she now inhabited.

She looked herself over as much as she could, touching her face and feeling the skin was reasonably taut again, her hair back to chestnut brown rather than the white it had turned in the last decade. Her back straightened easily without a hint of arthritis or osteoporosis. Her lungs filled deeply without obstruction. She almost wanted to weep with relief.

She noticed Holtzmann was staring at her too, drinking in every detail with eyes filled with tears. "I wasn't sure what form you'd end up with, but I've gotta say, nice choice. Don't get me wrong, loved your silver fox look too, but it's nice to see this you again."

"It's nice to feel like this me again," Erin agreed. She frowned, noticing her bangs and the outfit she wore, including the hoodie and jeans she knew were in fact long worn out and replaced. "Wait, if you look like you're in your thirties, why do I look like I did in my forties?"

Holtzmann shrugged. "Best I've figured out, the form you take is how you felt best throughout your life. I guess you and I were the most ourselves when we were ghostbusting."

Erin supposed that made sense. In her twenties and thirties, she had been trying to be someone she wasn't, and her fifties and sixties were defined by worrying about and taking care of Holtzmann. Even if her final few years were pretty good again, her forties had been a wonderful interlude filled with friendship and scientific breakthroughs and the too-short joyful romance with Holtz.

The shock of the transition wore off and it suddenly overwhelmed Erin that they had been given back that time, reunited in a form where no disease or death could ever separate them again. With tears in her own eyes, Erin reached forward hesitantly, cupping Holtzmann's face in her hands, thumbs stroking her cheeks. Her breath escaped in a sob as she could feel the warm softness of Holtz's skin just as tenderly as she had in life.

The contact broke Holtz too and she threaded her arms around Erin's waist, drawing her in so they could bury their faces in each other's necks. Their bodies enfolded in each other as closely as they could physically get, soaking in the genuine physical touch they had been starved of for so long.

"I missed this…missed you so much," Erin said, voice breaking.

"Me too," Holtzmann said, her own voice tight. "I tried…"

"You did so good."

"Wasn't the same."

"No." Erin sniffled. "But it is now."

Holtzmann smiled, pulling back enough to look at Erin. "Just wait. You're gonna love the whole thing."

"Whole thing?" Erin had a sudden flicker of fear and hesitation, processing that she wasn't part of the living world anymore. Looking around, she realized everything around them was cast in blue, like seeing the world through a colored light. "Oh."

"Yeah. Kind of feels weird at first, but you'll get acclimated soon."

"You've been seeing the world in blue this whole time?" Erin asked, briefly pondering all the times Holtz had worked with color-coded wires over the last few years.

"It's different when you're corporeal. We're just technically on the other side of the veil right now. Not quite in the afterlife yet."

"Huh." All her years of research still left her unprepared for the feeling. It was nothing like diving into the portal to rescue Abby. Everything was…peaceful, hushed.

Which was why she supposed she hadn't noticed the alarm beeping from the monitors beside her hospital bed. She saw the nurses rush in, passing straight through her as they hurried to check on her lifeless body.

"Probably best we head out now," Holtzmann grimaced, wrinkling her nose. "I don't think we want to watch this part."

The world was starting to fade out into the blue mist around them and panic rushed through Erin. "Wait! Abby! And Patty!"

"It's okay. Once we've got you settled in, I'll go back and tell them you're doing fine. Then, after a bit, when you've got the hang of it, you can come back too. Get back to life as usual at the apartment. Well, not _life_ , per se…"

Erin watched the last of the hospital room fade from view, somewhat relieved she didn't have to see Abby and Patty grieve for her. "How long before I can come back?"

"Not sure. Probably faster than me since you've already learned the ropes." Holtz started backing into the mist around them, beckoning Erin after her. "In the meantime, the Other Side awaits, young lady. You think all our ghost stuff was cool, wait'll you see this."

The uncertainty and trepidation of the transition was beginning to ease, giving way to curiosity and anticipation. The scientist in Erin thrilled slightly at the prospect of what lay beyond the foggy veil.

She noticed for the first time the trail of red energy extending between her and Holtz and the lingering nervousness in her heart warmed with the knowledge she wouldn't be making this adventure alone, and never would again.

Moving forward, she looped her arm in Holtzmann's and gestured ahead of them. "All right. Lead on."

"You're gonna love it," Holtz beamed. "I've gotta show you what Dr. Gorin and I have been playing with in her lab. And I know you're probably gonna want some time with family and stuff, but after that we've gotta take a few trips across the galaxy. And I have to show you the dinosaurs! They're amazing! Oh, the cat's here too! He's staying with Gorin when I'm not here. He's gonna be happy to see you too. By the way, don't freak out, but physics work kind of different here. Forget the rules we knew. It'll make more sense once you don't have to process it through the filter of a human brain. Ah, I'll let you see for yourself…"

Erin leaned into Holtz's shoulder, knowing whatever dizzying world lay ahead of them, they had eternity to explore it together. And one day with Abby and Patty right there with them again, never again to be parted.

Peace settled in her heart at last, the stress of life trailing away behind her, and arm in arm, Erin and Holtzmann strolled through the barrier.


End file.
